TA  y  ^Sco  v£<  >s*s ,  T  ^J2^-  -* 


y  s 


>f*¥7i*  *y*dr) 


DOCTOR  JOHN  SAWYER 


BY 

MRS.  E.  J.  BARTLETT 


BOSTON 

ARENA   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPLEY  SQUARE 

1893 


Copyrighted  1893 

by 

MRS.  E.  J.  BARTLETT 
All  rights  reserved. 


Arena  Press. 


The  character  of  Allan  Varney,  de- 
picted within  these  pages,  was  long 
under  the  observation  of  the  writer, 
who  is  convinced  that  human  nature 
has  often  an  endowment  beyond  mor- 
tal ken,  and  human  judgment  may 
err  on  the  side  of  incredulity. 

AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 

February  i4th,  1893. 


2072384 


Abou   Ben    Ad- 
hem    (may    his 
tribe  increase  ! ) 
Awoke     one     night 
from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  in 

his  room, 
Making   it   rich  and   like  a  lily  in 

bloom, 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold. 
Exceeding    peace   had    made    Ben 

Adhem  bold, 
And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he 

said, 
"  What  writest  thou  ?  "     The  vision 

raised  its  head, 

And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet 
accord, 

7 


8  PROLOGUE. 

Answered,  "The  names  of  those 
who  love  the  Lord." 

"And  is  mine  one?"  said  Abou. 
"  Nay,  not  so, " 

Replied  the  angel.  Abou  spoke 
more  low, 

But  cheerily  still :  and  said,  "  I  pray 
thee,  then, 

Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fel- 
low-men." 

The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished. 
The  next  night 

It  came  again,  with  a  great  waken- 
ing light, 

And  showed  the  names  whom  love 
of  God  had  blessed, — 

And,  lo  !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led 
all  the  rest ! 

LEIGH  HUNT. 


DOCTOR  JOHN  SAWYER 


"WELL!  Well. 
This  is  out  of  my 
line,  old  man." 

Docter  Sawyer 
tipped  back  in  his 
office  chair,  and  knit  his  shaggy 
eyebrows,  surmounting  like  senti- 
nels the  kindly  gray  eyes,  while  his 
very  attitude  suggested  that  the 
placidity  of  the  even  tempered  man 
was  disturbed. 

An  old  college  chum — and  a  still 
warm  friend — living  in  New  York 
city,  had  written,  asking  him  to  find 
a  boarding  place,  among  his  "be- 
loved hills  "  for  a  young  patient  suf- 

9 


10  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

faring  from  insomnia,  whom  he  de- 
sired Doctor  Sawyer  to  look  after. 

"Nothing  but  a  radical  change 
from  a  fashionable  life  will  prevent 
nervous  prostration,"  the  letter  read. 

"I  am  determined  that  Helen 
Lindsey  shall  be  a  child  of  nature 
for  one  season,  and  remembering 
what  you  told  me,  when  we  met  at 
Richfield  Springs  last  year,  of  the 
quaint  people  who  enticed  you  from 
a  sure  fortune,  to  say  nothing  of 
fame — I  turn  to  you,  to  look  up 
a  farmhouse  with  comfortable  ap- 
pointments in  your  beautiful  New 
England  town,  and  watch  the  case 
for  me. 

' '  I  will  write  more  in  detail  after  I 
hear  from  you,  meanwhile  I  remain 
"Faithfully  Yours. 

"  GEORGE L.  FOSTER.' 
New  York  City, 

April  1 6th,  1890. 

Doctor  Sawyer  laid  the  letter  on 
his  desk  and  pondered  over  his 
dilemma. 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  place  to  fill 
the  bill — unless  the  Bates  farmhouse 
is  suitable — but  will  Mother  Bates 
consent?  There's  the  rub.  For  a 
good  price,  I'd  almost  swear  she 
would  ;  and  a  break  in  the  monotony 
of  Flora's  dull  life  would  be  a  god- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  \  i 

send  to  the  girl,  for  she  would  hear 
something  apart  from  housework 
and  saving. " 

The  above  cogitation  resulted  in 
the  Doctor's  turning  his  horse,  a  few 
hours  later,  into  the  wide  old  road 
where  the  elm  trees  towered,  and 
spread,  until  their  branches  inter- 
locked overhead,  forming  in  mid- 
summer a  shade  grateful  alike  to 
man  and  beast. 

A  drive  of  twenty  minutes  took 
the  Doctor  to  the  farm  of  Elisa  Bates, 
whose  house,  large  and  square,  with 
a  piazza  across  the  front,  stood 
further  from  the  road  than  most 
New  England  farmhouses,  and  was 
built  upon  an  eminence  surrounded 
with  trees,  that  seemed  to  have 
grown  to  invite  hammocks,  for  their 
very  appearance  suggested  repose 
and  day-dreams. 

Scrupulous  neatness,  outside  and 
in,  tended  to  impress  the  personality 
of  the  owners  of  the  place  upon  the 
mind  of  the  stranger.  The  windows 
and  doors  of  the  breezy  hall  were 
carefully  closed  to  exclude  any  dar- 
ing particle  of  dust  which  might 
defy  the  orderly  atmosphere  and 
strive  to  enter. 

A  year  before,  farmer  Bates,  to  the 
astonishment  of  his  neighbors,  had 
"citified  his  house."  A  bay  win- 


12  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER, 

dow  had  been  thrown  out  from  the 
dining-room  facing  the  west,  while 
that  marvel  of  luxury,  for  that  part  of 
the  country,  a  bath-room,  had  been 
put  in. 

"  Me  and  mother  don't  care  about 
sich  notions,"  he  said,  by  way  of 
excuse  for  this  extravagance,  "but 
Flory  :  she  likes  it,  and  I  am  doing 
it  all  to  please  my  girl." 

Mrs.  Bates  shook  her  head  and 
protested  against  this  waste  of 
money,  but  her  husband  carried  his 
point  for  once.  This,  in  substance, 
was  floating  through  Doctor  Saw- 
yer's mind,  as  he  fastened  his  horse 
to  a  hitching-post,  and  walked  up 
the  gravel  walk  to  the  kitchen  door, 
where  he  knew  he  would  find  the 
hard  working  woman  who  had  toiled 
year  in  and  year  out,  as  only  a 
farmer's  wife  can  toil,  when  avarice 
and  a  natural  love  of  order  chain 
her  to  her  post. 

The  Doctor  was  a  general  favorite. 
His  ready  sympathy  and  willing 
hands,  where  suffering  and  poverty 
touched  him  the  deepest,  endeared 
him  alike  to  all  stations,  and  every 
chronic  complainer  felt  an  individ- 
ual sense  of  ownership  in  him. 

Doctor  Sawyer  took  a  seat  on  the 
"bench  of  the  kitchen  porch  where 
the  shelves,  on  one  side,  held  the  in- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  13 

verted  milk-pails  and  pans  shining 
brightly  in  the  warm  sunlight.  The 
grass  was  already  of  that  delicious 
green  seen  only  in  early  spring,  and 
seemed  almost  riotous  in  its  rapid 
growth,  while  the  budding  trees 
appeared  as  if  they  were  struggling 
to  foretell  the  beauty  with  which 
maturity  would  crown  them. 

Away  across  the  meadows  and 
undulating  fields  a  row  of  hills 
stretched  gradually  up,  until  they 
were  lost  in  the  haze,  or  blended 
with  the  distant  range  of  mountains 
darkly  blue.  Lost  to  all  but  the 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  scene, 
the  Doctor  bared  his  head.  In- 
voluntarily came  to  his  mind — "Ye 
everlasting  hills,"  when  an  open- 
ing door  and  sharp  voice  recalled 
him. 

"  La,  Doctor,  don't  set  there  on 
that  hard  bench.  Come  right  in 
and  take  Pa's  cushioned  chair  by 
the  winder. " 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Bates,  it  was 
so  inviting  here,  I  could  not  resist 
stopping.  How  are  you  all?  I 
don't  see  your  good  husband  in  the 
fields  to-day." 

"  No,  he  and  the  men  are  down 
on  the  side-hill  plantin'  pertaters. 
Sight  of  work  to  do  ;  Pa  does  work 
so  hard,  and  now  he  wants  to  buy 


14  £>R-  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

that  wood-piece  jinin'  our  wheat- 
field  ;  but  I  tell  him  we've  got  land 
enough. 

"  I  think  you  have,"  answered 
the  Doctor.  ' '  See  here,  Mrs.  Bates, 
you  might  make  money  easier  in 
summer  than  you  do,  without  so 
much  butter-making  and  farming : 
Here  is  this  large  house  all  unused 
in  the  second  story,  excepting  Flora's 
room,"  and  thus  he  plunged  head- 
long into  the  matter  of  his  errand, 
in  a  straightforward  manner,  never 
stopping  to  notice  the  astonished 
woman  who  sat  upon  the  edge  of 
her  chair,  folding  over  and  smooth- 
ing a  corner  of  her  big  apron  into 
a  triangular  shape,  a  never-failing 
habit  of  her  untiring  hands  when 
not  otherwise  occupied. 

"  It  would  be  a  sight  of  work, 
cookin'  so  much  in  hot  weather," 
she  broke  in,  unnoticed  by  the 
Doctor  who  proceeded  to  specify 
a  good  price,  (although  his  friend 
had  left  that  item  out  of  his  letter), 
and  deftly  putting  it  at  a  figure  sure 
to  catch  the  cupidity  of  his  listener, 
whose  expression  of  face  denoted 
that  the  bait  was  a  good  one. 

"  If  I  were  not  positive  your  table 
would  suit,  I  should  never  have 
come  to  you  ;  besides  your  house  is 
so  well  adapted  for  it." 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 5 

Mrs.  Bates  was  bewildered.  She 
rose  and  walked  to  the  kitchen 
stove,  opened  the  oven  door  to  baste 
a  roast  therein,  and  leisurely  put  a 
saucepan  of  vegetables  on  to  cook 
for  the  early  dinner,  then  returned 
to  her  chair. 

The  prospect  of  getting  her  best 
bedrooms  dusty,  with  flies  entering 
the  open  windows,  and  the  idea 
that  the  parlor,  the  pride  of  the  New 
England  matron's  heart,  would  be 
used  every  day,  filled  her  with 
alarm — yet  the  money — almost  clear 
gain,  she  rapidly  summed  up. 

"Dear  me  !  how  you  do  go  on, 
Doctor  Sawyer.  Let  me  think,"  and 
she  tipped  her  chair  forward — 
"Yes,  I  could  get  Huldy  Moss  to 
come  and  help  with  the  work." 

Her  hearer  smiled  to  himself  as  a 
vision  of  the  same  Huldah,  insisting 
upon  sitting  at  the  table  with  the 
family  rose  before  him.  To  eat  all 
by  herself,  "  like  the  Irish  Biddies," 
as  she  was  wont  to  say,  was  not  a 
part  of  Huldah 's  plan  in  life. 

"  You  see,  'Lias,  he  likes  to  eat 
with  the  men,  says  it  makes  them 
feel  to  home  like,  so  Huldy  could 
eat  with  them  in  the  kitchen,  while 
Flory  and  I  could  wait  upon  the 
boarders.  How  many  did  you 
say  ?  " 


1 6  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER, 

The  Doctor,  delighted  to  find  his 
proposition  taking  so  well,  drew 
forth  the  letter. 

"  Mr.  Lindsey  would  be  here  over 
an  occasional  Sunday,  but  his  wife, 
daughter  and  son  of  nine  years,  with 
a  maid,  would  want  to  come  by  the 
first  of  June." 

"  Well,  Doctor,  I'll  talk  it  over 
with  'Lias  and  Flory.  She  will  fly 
off  the  handle,  I  s'pose,  at  the  idee 
of  city  folks  coming  here,  and  her  Pa 
never  says  no  to  her,  but  she's  a  good 
girl,  Flory  is,  only  she  had  rather 
be  out  of  doors  gatherin'  wild  flowers 
or  ridin'  Dandy,  than  settin'  down  at 
her  sewin'. " 

"  Better  for  her,  too,"  retorted  the 
Doctor;  "it  will  help  to  make  her 
strong  and  fitter  to  bear  life's  bur- 
dens later  on. " 

"'Sakes  alive,  Doctor  Sawyer,  ain't 
I  strong  enough  ?  and  I  never  went 
gadding  off  every  blessed  day. " 

The  man  looked  at  the  angular 
figure,  raw-boned,  and  sinewy 
from  labor,  all  grace  and  harmony 
obliterated  from  never-ceasing  toil, 
which  Nature  fitted  her  for  appar- 
ently, and  again  asked  himself  "  how 
had  such  a  graceful  Hebe  as  Flora 
Bates  sprung  from  such  a  source  ? " 
The  only  living  child,  born  in  the 
early  days  of  this  money-loving 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 7 

couple  ;  others  had  followed,  and 
lived  for  few  weeks  or  months — help- 
less little  waifs  of  vitiated  strength. 
Maternity  or  its  claim,  made  no 
difference  in  Mrs.  Bates,  routine  of 
work,  and  the  rest  which  was 
allowed  the  cattle  on  their  farm, 
was  considered  unnecessary  for  the 
human  species  ;  so  Nature  avenged 
herself,  by  the  severest  penalty, 
which  the  unheeding  defier  of  nat- 
ural law,  considered  a  ' '  dispensation 
of  Providence  "  and  submitted  in  a 
spirit  of  resignation  to  contribute 
a  quota  of  little  graves  to  the  village 
grave-yard. 

Florinda,  only,  had  lived,  and  her 
mother's  heart  rejoiced  that  she 
could  bear  the  name  of  the  heroine 
of  the  only  novel  time  had  allowed 
Mrs.  Bates  to  read. 

Flora,  she  was  called  at  school, 
and  the  name  fitted  her  well.  When 
the  question  of  better  advantages 
for  an  education  than  the  town 
school  afforded  came  up,  Mr.  Bates 
carried  the  day,  and  his  daughter 
was  allowed  a  two-years'  course  in 
a  near-by  seminary.  A  natural  love 
for  study  and  reading  had  stored 
her  mind  with  useful,  and  a  goodly 
share  of  romantic  diversity  of  infor- 
mation. 

The    sordid,   narrow    life   of  her 


1 8  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

home  was  cruelly  distasteful,  but 
she  found  congenial  society  in  the 
village  circle,  for  not  all  of  New 
England  society  is  drawn  after  the 
pattern  of  Maria  Louise  Poole's  pic- 
tures. 

Flora  possessed  a  fine  voice,  and 
was  an  enthusiast  in  music,  but  was 
denied  all  but  a  meager  training  in 
vocal  culture.  Her  mother's  foot 
went  down  against  what  she  called 
a  "device  of  Satan's  to  make  peo- 
ple spend  their  hard-earned  money. " 
A  piano  was  the  most  daring  wish 
in  the  life  of  Flora,  effectually 
nipped  in  the  bud,  although  as  her 
father  sometimes  joked  about  it, 
with  a  wink  to  his  daughter,  she 
cherished  the  hope  that,  some  dis- 
tant day,  he  might  defy  the  law  of 
the  "  Medes  and  Persians"  that 
governed  their  household  economy. 

The  girl  was  a  particular  favorite 
of  Doctor  Sawyer,  who  realized  the 
starvation  her  mind  suffered  through 
her  environment.  In  his  capacity 
of  physician  he  found  time  and 
opportunity  to  study  all  phases  of 
character  and  temperament. 

A  logical  thinker,  he  was  never 
surprised  at  any  hidden  or  unex- 
plained force  that  he  came  upon, 
and  while  he  respected  the  preju- 
dices of  others,  often  the  outcome  of 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  19 

narrow  boundaries,  he  retained  his 
own  impressions,  unmindful  of  com- 
ment or  adverse  consideration. 
Nature  was  a  constant  teacher. 
Every  phase  convinced  him  the 
clearer  that  while  man  in  invention 
was  "Nature's  Chief,"  there  were 
heights  and  depths  human  reason 
could  not  sound. 

The  limitations  surrounding  the 
understanding  of  humanity  were  to 
him  controlled  by  laws,  like  invis- 
ible links  of  steel,  while  man,  blind 
to  their  power,  claimed  to  be  able 
to  account  for  all  miscalculated  phe- 
nomena. 


THE  town  of 
Harrow,  built 
01?  the  Uplands,  with 
no  incentive  for  that 
iconoclast,  the  man- 
ufacturer, had  seen 
but  few  changes,  and  had  grown 
gradually  into  a  large,  provincial, 
and  in  its  own  way,  aristocratic 
town. 

Possessing  rare  attractions  for  the 
lover  of  the  picturesque,  other  and 
less  charming  spots  had  drawn  the 
"madding  crowd."  Farms  had 
remained  in  the  same  family  for 
generations,  and  money  had  ac- 
cumulated by  thrift  and  industry, 
20 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  2 1 

but  the  town,  like  others,  had  its 
own  modicum  of  the  shiftless  and 
poor. 

The  old  Congregational  church, 
situated  on  a  romantic  knoll  half 
way  up  a  hill,  with  an  added  wing 
on  either  side,  as  the  increasing 
census  of  the  town  demanded,  was 
quite  pretentious,  and  had  a  deserv- 
ing popularity.  Its  pastor  had 
grown  old  and  mellow  with  time, 
modifying  the  early  tempestuous 
denunciation  against  the  sinner, 
which,  interpreted,  meant  the  man 
or  woman  outside  the  saving  power 
of  the  Church. 

The  other  denominational,  and 
withal  most  forcible  sect,  had  their 
place  of  worship  built  where  the 
Methodists  seek  for  converts, 
among  "God's  poor,"  and  stood 
with  its  glaring  white  surface  and 
green  blinds,  in  a  square  on  the 
other  side  of  the  town.  Its  mem- 
bers were  largely  reinforced  from 
the  adjoining  town,  where  a  large 
factory  gathered  a  motley  crowd  of 
all  nationalities. 

Vigorously  the  ever-changing 
pastors  and  elders  strove  to  keep 
the  backsliders  from  the  pitfalls, 
but  a  frequent  lapse  would  ensue. 
It  can  readily  be  understood  how  a 
conservative  in  religious  matters, 


22  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

would  be  regarded  in  most  New 
England  towns. 

Our  liberal-minded  Doctor  was 
exhorted  in  vain,  but  prayed  for 
openly  and  in  secret,  by  every  man 
and  woman  inside  the  fold.  His 
unflinching  integrity  and  helpful 
sympathy  forbade  utter  condemna- 
tion, however.  He  was  an  embodi- 
ment of  individualism,  choosing 
from  the  instincts  of  his  heart  his 
own  path,  wherein  he  walked  fear- 
lessly. On  his  way  from  the  farm, 
he  called  to  see  a  patient  in  whom 
he  felt  a  deep  and  affectionate  in- 
terest. A  young  lad  of  fourteen 
years,  helpless  from  spinal  disease, 
with  a  face  of  remarkable  beauty, 
and  a  frame  like  a  child.  A  few 
years  before,  Mrs.  Varney  had  come 
to  Harrow  for  the  air  and  quiet  its 
seclusion  promised,  with  her  only 
remaining  tie,  the  afflicted  lad 
whom  she  idolized. 

Mrs.  Varney  was  a  bright,  cheer- 
ful woman,  whose  patient  endurance 
and  sterling  sense  won  for  her  uni- 
versal respect,  and  the  Doctor  found 
it  a  rest — "  a  tonic  to  his  mind,"  he 
declared,  to  call  and  bandy  argu- 
ment with  the  charming  woman 
and  her  son,  whose  mind  was  cul- 
tivated beyond  his  years.  The 
neighbors  could  find  nothing  to 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYEK.  23 

criticise  either  in  the  history  or  life 
of  Mrs.  Varney,  yet  they  indulged 
in  a  sort  of  aggrieved  feeling  over 
her  evident  superiority,  and  eyed 
her  a  little  askance,  for  no  one  could 
quite  fathom  her  religious  opin- 
ions. 

When  she  could  leave  Allan  with 
an  old-time  and  trusty  servant,  she 
took  her  place  in  the  Congrega- 
tional church  where  she  had  a 
pew,  and  the  family  of  the  clergy- 
man were  her  warmest  friends. 
Through  Doctor  Sawyer,  Flora 
Bates  had,  from  the  first  profes- 
sional services  of  the  former,  be- 
come interested  in  Allan  Varney, 
and  often  spent  an  hour  with  him. 
Her  healthy,  buoyant  nature  gave 
out  some  of  its  strong  magnetism 
to  him,  while  to  her  he  confided 
his  day-dreams,  and  to  her  looked 
for  added  sympathy,  in  the  long 
days  of  pain.  Poor  lad !  with  a 
brain  abnormally  active,  he  was 
gifted  with  a  subtle  power  which 
brought  unseen  forces  to  help  him 
battle  with  the  acute  suffering  that 
his  incurable  disease  inflicted.  Few 
could  understand  or  appreciate 
these  conditions.  Doctor  Sawyer 
believed  it  all  to  be  real  to  the  boy, 
for  a  practical  investigation  had 
satisfied  the  Doctor  that  hidden 


24  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

truths  were  brought  to  light  by 
research  in  manifold  ways.  His 
sympathy  was  very  precious  to 
Allan,  who  called  the  kind  Doctor's 
visits  "the  bright  spot  in  his  shad- 
ows." 

''Good-morning,  you  blessed 
Doctor,  what  good  spirit  sent  you 
to  me  ?  I  told  Jamie  all  the  morn- 
ing that  I  wanted  to  see  you." 

Mrs.  Varney  smiled  when  she 
greeted  the  Doctor,  and  pushed 
an  easy-chair  up  to  Allan's  couch, 
which  was  placed  in  the  bright  sun- 
light. 

"Here  I  am,  then,  on  hand,  my 
boy — I  wanted  to  see  you  as  well. 
What  is  the  word  for  me  ?  " 

' '  Oh,  Doctor,  I  have  suffered  hor- 
ribly for  two  days  in  mind  and 
body,  for  I  have  given  way  to  im- 
patience and  ingratitude.  Poor 
mother  bears  my  complaining  with 
a  good  grace,  but  I  know  I  hurt 
her  awfully  at  times, — I  have  list- 
ened to  Jamie,  who  came  to  me 
this  morning — my  wicked  rebellious 
spirit  kept  him  away  yesterday — 
and  I  have  promised  him  to  be  more 
patient  and  resigned  ;  but,  oh,  it  is 
so  hard, — so  hard  to  lie  here  help- 
less, racked  eternally  with  pain  !  I 
want  to  get  out  and  see  the  fields, 
and  hear  the  brook  murmur  :  but 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYEK.  25 

only  to  be  able  to   sit    up,   would 
satisfy  me." 

The  boy's  face  wore  a  look  of  un- 
utterable sadness,  while  his  moth- 
er's eyes  were  filled  with  tears 
of  infinite  pity  for  her  suffering 
boy. 

Doctor  Sawyer  took  the  hand  of 
the  lad  in  his  strong  one  and  talked 
to  him  of  other  lives  ;  of  sorrows 
oft-times  intensified  by  blighting 
sin  and  remorse,  touching  upon 
the  other  life,  for  which  this  is  but  a 
stepping-stone — of  the  compensa- 
tions to  be  expected,  if  the  lessons 
here  are  well  learned,  in  that 
"Home  where  many  mansions 
be." 

The  boy  broke  in. 

"Oh,  Doctor,  how  I  wish  that 
you  and  mother  could  see  Jamie, 
and  hear  him  talk  as  /  hear  him. 
When  I  am  suffering  the  most  he 
comes,  and  stands  here  as  plainly 
to  me  as  you  do,  and  tells  me  of 
our  Home  over  there — only  he 
brings  it  near,  for  he  comes  straight 
from  it  to  talk  to  me.  He  says  he 
is  permitted  to  do  this  out  of  sym- 
pathy. " 

"  I  believe  you,  Allen  ;  to  you  this 
power  is  given,  to  both  feel  and  see 
your  friend  who  is  invisible  to  more 
material  eyes,  and  his  presence  is 


26  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

real  to  you.  I  cannot  doubt  it.  Our 
eyes  are  blind  to  a  spiritual  sense 
which  suffering  has  brought  to  you. 
Enjoy  it  as  a  gift  from  heaven,  my 
dear  boy.'' 

"  Flora  was  in  here  a  little  while 
ago,  and  brought  me  these  lovely 
flowers,"  and  the  lad  pointed  to  a 
large  bunch  of  trailing  arbutus, 
which  perfumed  the  room  with  their 
delicious  odor.  "She  believes  in 
Jamie,  too,  and  he  tells  me  not  to 
heed  what  others  say,  and  that  I 
should  pity  the  blind." 

The  lad  smiled  as  he  recalled  a 
conversation  he  had  overheard  a 
day  or  two  before  from  callers  upon 
his  mother,  while  they  were  waiting 
for  her  in  another  room. 

The  name  of  Flora  brought  to 
Doctor  Sawyer's  mind  the  errand  he 
had  just  finished,  and  he  began  to 
relate  the  new  experience  he  had 
undertaken. 

The  good  Doctor  hardly  relished 
the  responsibility  his  old  friend  had 
put  upon  him.  When  he  mentioned 
the  name  of  Lindsey,  a  shade  of 
something  painful  passed  over  Mrs. 
Varney's  face. 

"What  is  the  first  name  of  the 
invalid  girl?"  she  inquired. 

"  Helen,  I  think,  but  I  will  look 
and  see  ;  "  and  the  Doctor  referred 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


27 


to  the  letter  which  was  in  his 
pocket,  and  by  doing  this  afforded 
time  to  Mrs.  Varney  to  recover  her- 
self. 


CHAPTER  III. 


FOR  over  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  the 
Reverend      Oliver 
Emerson  had   pre- 
/  sided      over     the 

Congregational  Church 
at  Harrow.  He  was  thoroughly 
identified  with  the  growth  and 
interest  of  the  town,  for  had  he 
not  united  in  marriage,  baptized, 
and  preached  the  funeral  sermons 
of  a  goodly  portion  of  its  people? 
He  was  a  student  still,  and  an 
earnest  thinker,  and,  while  he  was  a 
devout  believer  in  his  theology,  he 
had  too  much  innate  charity  to  re- 
tain the  aggressive  stand  of  his 
earlier  years.  The  scope  of  his 
mental  vision  had  broadened  by 

28 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  29 

looking  out  upon  life  with  glasses 
not  rimmed  with  the  metal  of  egot- 
ism. 

Between  Doctor  Sawyer  and  the 
genial  pastor,  a  strong  friendship 
existed.  An  undercurrent  of  sym- 
pathy on  general  points  modified 
the  clash  on  doctrinal  grounds.  Mr. 
Emerson  recognized  the  noble  and 
unselfish  attributes  of  soul  in  his 
friend,  and,  while  urging  the  impor- 
tance of  an  open  expression  of  relig- 
ion, granted  the  possibility  of  sal- 
vation through  ' '  good  works. " 

Frequently  he  accompanied  the 
physician  on  a  drive  to  see  a  distant 
patient,  more  often  a  "labor  of  love  " 
than  of  profit  to  the  Doctor,  who 
was  glad  to  give  his  patient  the  con- 
solation of  advice  and  prayer  from 
their  pastor. 

On  one  of  these  rides,  when  Allan 
Varney  and  his  affliction  had  been 
the  subject  of  conversation,  the 
Doctor  alluded  to  his  peculiar  gift 
of  a  psychical  power,  and,  to  his 
great  surprise,  found  his  listener  in- 
terested, even  charitable,  concerning 
it  as  he  said  : 

' '  To  deny  that  an  occasional  mind 
is  endowed  with  a  clairvoyant  power 
would  be  unwise  in  the  face  of 
facts. " 

The  Doctor's  face  wore  an  amused 


30  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

smile  at  the  last  words,  while  Mr. 
Emerson  went  on. 

"  I  must  hold,  notwithstanding, 
to  the  insecurity  in  a  belief  of  this 
nature,  or  that  it  would  be  of  any 
benefit  to  the  world.  Are  we  not 
warned  in  the  Bible,  against  false 
prophets  and  forbidden  to  look  into 
hidden  things  ?  " 

The  Doctor  gently  flicked  his 
mare,  who  turned  her  head  as  if 
to  question  her  master's  intention, 
while  the  Doctor  was  apparently 
mentally  digesting  his  companion's 
words. 

"  Yet  Moses  walked  with  God,  and 
Elijah  held  familiar  intercourse  with 
spirits  of  a  higher  sphere  ;  later,  Paul 
spoke  with  the  authority  given  him 
by  spiritual  manifestation,  and  his 
prophecies  have  been  accepted  by 
all  Christian  teachers,  while  many 
of  his  words  are  mystical  and  admit 
of  conflicting  constructions.  Had 
Swedenborg  lived  in  that  time  his 
visions  would  have  been  considered 
in  a  like  manner,  a  power  given 
of  God,  I  doubt  not." 

The  Doctor  straightened  himself 
up,  and  continued  slowly — 

"  Dominie,  what  interpretation  do 
you  put  upon  Paul's  words  in  one  of 
his  epistles  to  the  Corinthians,  the 
second  I  think  (condensed  a  little). 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  3 1 

'  I  know  a  certain  man,  whether 
in  the  body,  or  outside  the  body,  I 
know  not  !  God  knoweth, — who 
was  rapt  into  Paradise,  and  heard 
things  ineffable  which  it  is  not  law- 
ful for  a  man  to  repeat. 

Mr.  Emerson  reflected  a  minute 
before  replying. 

"  I  have  pondered  over  those  very 
words,  Doctor.  Other  men  have 
found  ready  interpretations,  when 
handling  them  as  a  text,  but  I  have 
been  satisfied  to  accept  them  as  an 
illumination  of  soul,  which  Paul  had 
experienced  through  prayer  and 
fasting,  with  no  relation  to  what 
you  call  a  mystical  sense. 

"Paul  spoke  in  metaphor,  as  well 
as  in  a  certain  degree  of  parable, 
which  our  Lord  used  in  speaking  to 
the  masses,  you  know." 

The  Doctor  looked  hard  at  his 
friend. 

' '  Yes  :  and  when  Christ  was  ques- 
tioned 'Wherefore?'  He  made 
answer, 

"'Because  they  seeing,  see  not; 
hearing,  hear  not,  neither  do  they 
understand  !  ' ' 

Xo  reply  was  made,  and  the  Doctor 
changed  the  conversation  to  Allan's 
relation  with  clairvoyance. 

"I  have  had  no  little  personal 
experience  with  evidences  of  this 


3  2  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

nature,  and  a  spark  of  something 
within  me  kindles  against  the  judg- 
ment of  the  boy's  neighbors,  who 
pronounce  him  daft,  even  harder 
names,  in  accordance  with  their 
ignorance  of  the  conditions  about 
him,  or  the  virility  of  their  own 
natures.  It  is  hard,  I  admit,  for 
people  to  accept  the  theory  of  the 
Supernormal,  or  Spirit  control  :  but 
I  protest  against  the  verdict  that 
there  is  not,  can  not  be  such  a 
power,  and  I  believe  the  time  will 
come,  when  to  doubt  it,  will  be  to 
impeach  man's  intelligence. 

"  I  hold,  Emerson,  that  our  rela- 
tion spiritually  with  the  other  world, 
is  not  a  whit  more  unexplainable  to 
the  reasoning  mind,  than  our  ma- 
terial connection  with  the  natural 
world.  The  whole  of  Creation  is  a 
mystery.  No  power  of  man  could 
change  an  atom  of  its  plan,  and  I 
believe  the  spiritual  life,  or  the  exist- 
ence after  death,  to  be  as  material  in 
its  way  as  is  the  physical  in  this  life, 
with  the  same  power  to  think  and 
feel,  only  intensified  and  enlarged 
beyond  mortal  conception.  Men  are 
willing  to  accept  mere  theories  on 
scientific  subjects,  and  they  manage 
to  make  the  same  theories  very  pli- 
able. It  is  so  much  easier  to  dis- 
miss a  matter  with  ridicule  than  to 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  33 

investigate  it.  Spiritualism  would 
not  seem  absurd  if  only  the  crude 
thought  of  the  supernatural  could 
be  merged  into  the  possibilities  of 
natural  law  and  cognizance.  What 
is  the  influence  recognized  and 
obeyed  by  all  the  brute  creation, 
even  the  lowest  order,  or  that  power 
which  sways  the  multitude  and 
controls  the  fury  of  a  mob  compris- 
ing every  opposing  element  human 
nature  can  put  forth  ?  We  call  it 
intelligence,  or  will-power,  but  the 
most  ignorant  man  may  possess  it, 
or  the  simplest  child  the  same  con- 
dition of  will  necessary  to  control 
the  brute.  Surely  there  must  be 
another  power  behind  these." 

"  I  admit  that  you  can  find  much 
substantial  ground  to  argue  upon, 
Doctor.  We,  however,  differ  in  this  ; 
— you  desire  the  supremacy  of  man's 
reason  to  help  determine  the  vital 
question  of  immortality,  while  I 
think  we  should  trust  the  Bible  as  a 
guide,  and  not  place  our  weak  wills 
against  Divine  teaching  and  au- 
thority. " 

' '  Of  what  importance,  then,  are  our 
reasoning  faculties  ?  Why  were 
they  given  to  man  ?  But  here  we 
are  !  Whoa,  Kitty,  stand  still.  Will 
you  come  in,  or  stay  here,  Emer- 
son ?" 


34  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

"  I  will  walk  over  the  hill  yonder. 
Whistle  for  me  when  you  are  ready 
to  start. " 

Both  men  were  in  a  silent  mood 
on  the  ride  home,  and  stopping  at 
the  post-office  Doctor  Sawyer  found 
a  letter  from  his  nephew  and  adop- 
ted son,  dated,  "Paris,  March  28, " 
informing  his  uncle  that  the  writer 
was  homeward  bound. 

"  A  run  over  to  England,  Uncle 
John,  thence  to  Scotland  for  a 
glimpse  of  Stirling  Castle  and  the 
Lakes,  then  the  Anchor  Line  home. 

"  By  the  middle  of  May  look  for  me 
to  report  myself  ready  for  service. 
Were  I  to  accept  the  extension  of 
your  liberality,  and  travel  more  ex- 
tendedly,  it  would  savor  of  infringe- 
ment upon  your  kindness.  I  have 
put  in  my  time  well,  in  the  hospital 
work  I  came  here  for,  and  am  now 
ready  to  buckle  down  and  show 
what  there  is  in  me. " 

Dr.  Sawyer's  kindly  face  beam- 
ing with  the  pleasure  the  manly  tone 
of  the  letter  afforded  him,  was  an 
index  to  the  affection  he  lavished 
upon  Clarence. 

"  Practical  fellow  that,  no  need  to 
coach  him  ;  he  sees  his  place  and 
drives  straight  ahead.  Well,  I  am 
getting  on,  and  a  trifle  weary,  for  I 
have  worked  hard.  If  the  boy  will 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  35 

stay  with  me,  he  shall  have  the  half 
of  my  practice,  but  if  his  eyes  turn 

cityward  " The     Doctor    sighed 

deeply.  —  "I  won't  cross  the  bridge, 
until  I  get  to  it  at  all  events. " 

"The  boy,  "  as  he  still  seemed  to  his 
uncle,  was  a  stalwart  man  of  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age — New-England 
born  and  bred,  a  sturdy,  upright 
scion  of  Puritan  stock.  His  father 
had  been  an  unconscious  rival  of 
John  Sawyer's,  who,  when  he  saw 
the  preference  given  to  the  more 
attractive  younger  brother,  had 
freely  withdrawn  from  the  lists,  and 
made  no  sign.  A  few  years  later, 
when  Clarence  was  left  an  orphan, 
he  was  adopted  by  his  uncle,  and 
proved  himself  worthy  of  the  affec- 
tion which  had  encircled  his  young 
life. 

The  same  mail  which  brought  the 
Doctor's  letter  contained  one  for 
Elias  Bates  from  Mr.  Lindsey,  ap- 
pointing a  day  near  at  hand  for  a 
visit  to  the  farmhouse  to  make  the 
final  arrangements  for  board. 

"  You  know,  Ma,"  the  farmer  had 
said  when  the  matter  was  referred 
to  him,  "  that  your  bread  and  cake 
always  took  the  prize  at  the  county 
fair.  Our  fresh  eggs  and  chickens 
can't  be  beat  nohow,  and  we'll 
kill  off  a  lot  of  young  turkeys  along 


36  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

in  the  summer.  I'll  plant  more 
garden  sass,  so  that  fresh  meat  will 
be  about  the  only  thing  to  buy  ; 
and  we  can  make  a  good  thing  out 
of  it,  I  guess,  Ma." 

To  Flora  Bates  a  new  world 
seemed  opening,  as  she  speculated 
upon  the  people  who  would  come 
fresh  from  that  charmed  place,  New 
York,  and  she  entered  into  the 
necessary  preparations,  with  a  gusto 
that  brought  from  her  mother  the 
exclamation  : 

"Well,  I  never  did  see  the  beat 
of  that  girl  !  She  can  work  with  a 
will  when  anything  new  is  on 
hand." 

The  country  was  delightful  in  its 
garb  of  new  verdure,  and  the  air 
redolent  with  the  odor  of  violet  and 
trailing  arbutus.  There  is  a  pun- 
gency in  the  odor  of  freshness 
which  early  spring  brings,  that  tends 
to  awaken  memory,  and  infuse  hope 
into  the  jaded  life.  Who  has  not 
felt  that  a  particular  spring-time 
held  a  keener  promise  of  all  that 
enriches  nature  than  any  preceding 
it  ?  Flora  Bates  looked  out  over  her 
little  world  with  a  keener  appreci- 
ation of  all  tender  influences  than 
had  ever  entered  her  life  before. 
Even  the  birds  sang  sweeter  to  her 
ear  for  the  knowledge  she  had  of 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  37 

Clarence  Sawyer's  near  return. 
Never  had  nature  looked  so  beautiful, 
or  held  such  intimations  of  perfection. 
The  busy  robins,  building  their  nests 
seemed  to  say,  "We,  too,  rejoice 
with  you."  The  apparent  order  and 
thrift  in  the  aspect  of  the  house  and 
farm  enlisted  the  appreciation  of 
Mr.  Lindsey,  and  a  decision  in 
favor  of  spending  the  summer  there 
was  given  at  once.  His  wife  was  at 
first  repelled  by  the  outspoken  wom- 
an who  ruled  the  house,  but  with 
the  bright  sunny-natured  daughter 
she  was  agreeably  impressed.  Flora's 
unmistakable  delight  when  the 
question  of  sending  a  piano  for  his 
daughter's  use  was  settled,  amused 
even  the  pompous  Wall  Street  man. 
Mrs.  Bates  with  motherly  pride 
hastened  to  put  in  a  word  of  praise 
for  Flora,  whom,  she  averred,  "  sang 
better  than  any  girl  in  our  choir. 
She  sets  a  store  by  music,  Flory 
does. " 

The  remark  brought  a  pained 
flush  to  her  daughter's  face ;  her 
mother's  lack  of  polish  was  often  a 
perfect  torture  to  Flora.  It  was 
decided  that  the  horses  should  be 
kept  at  the  livery  stable  in  the  vil- 
lage and  Mr.  Bates  was  authorized 
to  find  the  coachman  a  boarding- 
place  near  the  homestead.  When 


38  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

the  guests  departed,  the  last  words 
of  Mrs.  Lindsey,  that  a  number  of 
things  would  be  sent,  including 
easy-chairs  and  hammocks  before 
the  family  came,  exercised  Mrs. 
Bates's  mind  a  little. 

"For  the  land's  sakes,  what  do 
they  want  more  chairs  for  ?  Ain't 
our'n  good  enough  ?  They'll  scratch 
my  new  painted  walls  all  up,  like 
as  not." 

On  the  whole,  however,  it  was  a 
pleasant  breaking  of  their  monot- 
onous routine  for  them  all.  Flora 
met  Doctor  Sawyer  one  afternoon  at 
Mrs.  Varney's  and  told  him  of  the 
expected  arrival,  and  learned  from 
him  that  Clarence  would  be  back 
in  a  day  or  two.  The  color  that 
mounted  to  her  face  while  the  Doc- 
tor was  telling  this  was  not  unno- 
ticed by  him,  and  it  fanned  a  hope 
burning  in  his  heart  that  his  nephew 
would  love  the  girl  whom  he  had 
chosen  for  him  since  they  had  been 
boy  and  girl  together  at  the  village 
school. 

The  Doctor  much  desired  to  see 
Clarence  safely  anchored  in  the  sea 
of  matrimony  early  in  life,  and 
thereby  avoid  the  loneliness  which 
the  fag  end  of  his  own  life  presented 
to  view,  he  told  himself. 

"Every  one  will  be  glad  to  wel- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  39 

come  Clarence  home,  I  am  sure," 
Flora  had  made  answer.  ' '  I  do 
hope  he  will  take  his  old  place  in  the 
choir.  His  voice  has  been  missed 
so  much,  and  we  have  all  de- 
generated in  his  absence." 

• '  Most  likely  he  will,  for  I  have 
noticed  that  he  expresses  his  religion 
more  in  the  fervor  he  vents  in 
hymns  than  any  other  way,  "laughed 
the  Doctor. 

After  Flora  left,  Allan  was  loud 
in  the  praise  of  the  girl  who  was 
so  kind  and  thoughtful  for  him. 

' '  You're  right,  my  boy,  you  and 
I  agree  about  Flora  Bates  ;  she  has 
not  her  equal  in  this  town." 

Noticing  Mrs.  Varney's  abstracted 
manner,  the  Doctor  rose  to  leave, 
telling  Allan  he  would  try  and  look 
in  upon  him  in  a  day  or  two  again. 

"  Will  you  remain  long  enough 
for  me  to  relate  one  chapter  of  my 
life's  history,  Doctor  Sawyer  ? "  she 
said. 

"I  little  thought  when,  by  a  mere 
accident,  I  settled  upon  this  old 
town  for  Allan  and  me  to  live  out  our 
quiet  lives,  that  I  should  ever  come 
in  contact  with  my  only  remaining 
relatives.  George  Lindsey  is  my 
brother  ;  and  the  news  that  his 
family  is  coming  to  this  place  has 
naturally  ruffled  the  even  tenor  of 


40  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

my  way,  and  turned  my  thoughts 
backward. " 

"  Indeed !  "  was  all  the  Doctor 
could  say.  Mrs.  Varney  continued, 

"We  may  never  meet,  however. 
I  was  fond,  very  fond,  of  Helen  when 
she  was  a  child,  and  to  be  separated 
from  her  caused  me  sincere  grief. 
My  mother  was  a  widow,  and  my 
home  was  with  George  after  her 
death.  He  entered  into  partner- 
ship with  a  prosperous  broker  early 
in  life.  Proud  and  ambitious,  my 
brother  possessed  an  iron  will  which 
carried  all  before  him.  You  can 
readily  perceive  how  prosperity 
could  harden  a  nature  to  whom  self- 
advancement  was  paramount  to  all 
else.  Its  very  conditions  lend  a 
force  to  quell  all  tenderer  obligations. 

' '  When  I  met  Allan's  father  " — 
here  the  mother  placed  her  hand  lov- 
ingly upon  the  boy's  head — "you 
have  heard  the  story  before,  dear — he 
was  a  poor  artist  struggling  to  make 
his  name.  My  son  has  his  father's  face 
and  artistic  temperament.  Gifted 
in  every  way,  fate  had  only  in  store 
for  him  disappointment  and  trouble. 
I  would  not  listen  to  my  brother, 
who  told  me  that  the  day  I  became 
'Allan  Varney 's  wife  would  sever  our 
relations  forever,  and  that  I  would 
receive  only  a  brother's  curse  for  a 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  4I 

wedding  gift' — that  day  came — I 
have  never  looked  upon  George 
Lindsey's  face  since.  His  weak 
little  wife  proved  a  sister  in  name 
only.  Her  husband's  command 
never  to  see  me  or  speak  my  name, 
was  literally  a  law  unto  her — but  it 
was  as  well.  I  went  abroad  with 
my  husband  and  our  little  Allan  was 
born  in  Zurich.  After  our  return,  we 
found  a  pleasant  home  in  the  sub- 
urbs of  New  York  city.  My  in- 
heritance from  my  mother  supplied 
what  my  husband's  art  could  not 
produce  to  satisfy  our  needs,  and 
we  were  too  happy  to  feel  aught  but 
pity  for  my  rich  brother,  whose  very 
soul  was  absorbed  in  stocks  and 
bonds. 

"  A  few  years  ago,  my  dear  hus- 
band was  taken  from  me  suddenly 
from  a  heart  affection — and — well  I 
lived  through  it, — because  my  boy 
needed  me.  I  wrote  to  George  at 
that  time  but  no  answer  was  vouch- 
safed to  me  in  my  sorrow,  and  Allan 
and  I  drifted  to  this  pleasant  town 
to  make  a  home."  Mrs.  Varney 
wiped  her  eyes.  "  Here  we  are 
going  to  stay,  the  coming  of  the 
Lindseys  to  Harrow,  need  not  dis- 
turb us,  for  it  will  be  as  that  of 
strangers.  I  am  sorry  to  learn  of 
Helen's  delicate  health.  She  was  a 


42  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

robust  child,  with  a  strong  tingevof 
her  father's  will." 

"  Shall  I  never  see  my  cousins  ?" 
Allan  inquired. 

"Probably  not;  dear,  we  must 
hold  our  own,  out  of  respect  to 
your  father's  memory,  you  know." 

Doctor  Sawyer  left  the  house, 
reflecting  upon  the  tangled  web  of 
human  lives,  and  of  the  discords 
that  are  struck  in  human  destinies 
through  selfishness  and  pride.  An- 
other illustration  of  his  theory  that  all 
lives  cross  each  other  with  inhar- 
monious elements  to  mar  a  perfect 
whole,  and  an  influence  goes  out 
from  each  individual,  like  the  ripple 
caused  by  a  drop  of  water  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  a  pond  reaching 
to  the  very  shore. 

At  the  gate  he  met  Martha  Jones, 
an  elderly  spinster,  whose  mission 
in  life  was  to  keep  her  neighbors  in 
order.  From  her  own  sheltered 
ledge,  too  narrow  to  admit  of  look- 
ing about  her,  she  prejudged  those 
who  stood  out  on  a  plateau  in  a 
broad  light. 

"  My  !  Docter  Sawyer,  what  long 
calls  you  do  make  on  that  half- 
crazy  boy  over  there.  I  saw  your 
horse  hitched  so  long  before  the 
gate,  that  I  was  just  running  in  to 
see  what  was  the  matter." 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  4  3 

"Very  kind  of  you,  Miss  Jones. 
What  would  we  do  in  this  world 
without  the  caretakers,"  and  the 
doctor  drove  off,  laughing,  leaving 
an  indefinite  impression  upon  this 
particular  caretaker  of  her  neighbor, 
rather  uncertain  in  her  own  mind, 
as  to  the  genuineness  of  his  appre- 
ciation. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ON  her  way 
home,     Flora's 
thoughts  were 
upon    Clarence   Sawyer. 
She  had  not  told  his  uncle 
that  a  letter   to  her   had 
conveyed  the  news  of  his   return. 

Very  dear  to  the  girl  were  the  few 
letters  he  had  written  to  her  while 
abroad.  Over  and  over  she  had 
read  them,  trying  to  find  a  tenderer 
sentiment  than  friendship  between 
the  lines — in  vain.  His  sympathy 
responsive  in  expression  to  her  own, 
for  the  beautiful  and  the  highest  in 
life,  was  the  deepest  feeling  she  could 
find.  Would  he  have  changed  ? 
Would  he  have  become  more  criti- 
cal now  that  his  vision  would  be- 
44 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  45 

no   longer   bounded   by  his   native 
hills? 

Flora  went  straight  to  her  room 
and  surveyed  herself  in  her  mirror, 
then  turned  from  its  reflection  with 
a  sigh.  An  innate  taste  in  dress 
restrained  Flora  Bates  from  those 
incongruities  in  prevailing  fashions, 
which  so  often  mark  and  mar  the 
country-bred  young  woman.  She 
had  a  distinctive  style  of  her  own, 
and  her  deft  ringers  made  her  simple 
gowns  fitting  and  becoming. 

One  of  the  first  calls  that  Clarence 
Sawyer  made  after  his  return,  was 
at  the  farm-house,  where  he  had 
always  been  a  most  welcome  guest. 
Mrs.  Bates  softened  under  his  in- 
fluence, and  in  their  childhood  the 
boy  could  always  obtain  privileges 
for  Flora,  that  would  have  been 
denied  her,  however  eagerly  she 
might  plead.  Many  a  coasting 
party  had  she  enjoyed  through  his 
intercession  with  her  mother.  A 
ring-leader  in  all  the  daring  mis- 
chief that  the  mind  of  the  small  boy 
can  encompass,  his  readiness  to 
assume  his  share  of  censure  always 
softened  the  penalty  his  pranks 
invoked.  Since  his  first  interview 
with  Allan  Varney,  that  lad  had. 
conceived  the  wildest  infatuation 
for  Doctor  Clarence.  After  the  lat- 


46  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

ter's  return  home,  he  often  entered 
the  sick-room  and  wrapped  him  in 
a  shawl  and  carried  him  out  into 
the  sunlight,  where  he  would  walk 
with  him  in  his  arms,  with  wonder- 
ful patience,  until  the  sick  boy's  face 
would  flush  with  the  exercise  and 
fresh  air,  while  his  eyes  were  receiv- 
ing pictures  for  memory  to  recall  of 
the  beauty  of  distant  mountain  and 
valley,  causing  the  days  of  pain  to 
pass  more  quickly  for  this  break  in 
their  monotony. 

"Wait,  my  boy,  until  summer  sets 
in.  I  will  rig  you  a  hammock  that  I 
brought  from  New  York,  out  under 
our  big  oak  tree,  which  will  make 
our  neighbors  wild  with  envy." 

Doctor  Clarence  had  studied  this 
particular  type  of  disease  while  in 
hospital  service,  and  knew  that  only 
a  little  time,  at  best,  could  remain  to 
his  young  friend,  and  that  the  time 
must  perforce  be  full  of  acute  suf- 
fering, and  his  compassionate  heart 
was  touched  to  the  core.  Many 
of  his  leisure  hours  were  spent  with 
Allan,  telling  him  of  the  Old  World, 
of  history  and  art,  for  the  boy  had 
a  well-stored  mind,  and  an  intelli- 
gent comprehension.  Mrs.  Varney 
would  steal  away  at  such  times 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  grateful  for 
the  law  of  compensation,  which 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  47 

if  rightly  looked  for,  is  brought  into 
every  life. 

May,  with  sunshine  and  shower, 
quickly  passed,  and  with  June  came 
the  city  people  to  the  farm-house. 
The  astonishment  of  its  mistress, 
when  she  surveyed  all  the  appurte- 
nances, seemingly  necessary  for  the 
comfort  of  her  guests,  partook  of 
the  ludicrous.  The  most  irritating 
quality,  however,  was  the  stylish- 
looking  maid,  whom  the  Lindseys 
addressed  as  "  Gibbs. " 

' '  An  outlandish  name  for  a  woman 
to  have,"  she  told  Huldah,  who  re- 
sponded : 

"What  better  could  you  expect 
from  them  Catholics  ? "  when  she 
had  learned  of  Gibbs's  persuasion. 
The  latter,  however  knew  her  place, 
and  very  little  friction  occurred. 

When  Flora  met  the  delicate  look- 
ing, but  strikingly  beautiful  girl, 
with  her  high-bred  manner,  she  felt 
as  though  she  could  almost  wor- 
ship such  perfection.  Languid  and 
indifferent  to  her  surroundings, 
Helen  Lindsey's  eyes  lighted  up 
when  she  saw  the  view  from  her 
chamber  window.  The  spacious 
room  was  fragrant  with  a  profusion 
of  early  blossoms  which  Flora  had 
placed  in  it. 

"Oh,  how  lovely  !    I  can  be  very 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


comfortable  here  and  already  feel 
contented,"  she  exclaimed  to  her 
mother  in  Flora's  hearing. 

Her  little  brother  Stewart  was  off 
rushing  over  the  place,  attempting 
to  make  friends  with  old  Hector,  a 
bull-dog  whose  fierce  appearance 
in  no  way  daunted  the  fearless  boy. 

"  You  mustn't  chase  the  chickens, 
little  boy,"  called  Huldah  from  the 
kitchen  door,  but  Mrs.  Bates  said 
sharply, 

"  Here,  let  the  child  alone.  He's 
been  cramped  up  in  the  city,  and 
has  got  to  let  himself  loose,  I 
s'pose. " 

When  supper  was  in  readiness, 
Mrs.  Bates  rang  a  large  bell  in  the 
hall,  "front  entry"  she  called  it, 
that  set  Mrs.  Lindsey's  nerves  on 
edge,  and  caused  her  to  glance  at 
her  daughter,  who  only  laughed  and 
said,  "  /  rather  like  the  sound  ;  it  is 
in  keeping  with  the  surroundings. " 

A  substantial  and  tempting  sup- 
per was  amply  appreciated,  and 
Mrs.  Bates  betook  herself  to  the 
kitchen  in  a  complacent  mood. 
After  the  meal  was  over,  Helen 
asked  Flora  to  join  her  on  the 
piazza,  and  kindly  point  out  the 
landmarks  of  the  mountain  range. 
The  city  girl,  reared  under  all  the 
refining  influences  which  wealth 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  49 

could  command,  recognized  the  in- 
born dignity  and  grace  of  the  other, 
and  a  friendship  began  at  once. 
The  next  morning,  when  Helen  en- 
tered the  room  for  her  late  breakfast, 
Flora  almost  held  her  breath  at  the 
vision  of  perfect  loveliness.  The 
richest  and  daintiest  of  morning 
toilets  in  white,  whose  exquisite 
finish  of  detail  attracted  Flora's  ap- 
preciative eye,  appealed  to  her  artis- 
tic sense  as  a  fitting  setting  for  this 
peerless  gem  of  womanhood,  while 
in  herself  she  formed  an  unconscious 
foil  to  the  other's  beauty,  in  her  per- 
sonification of  health. 

The  comments  of  Mrs.  Bates  in 
the  kitchen  to  her  factotum,  Huldah, 
over  the  "sight  of  work,"  which 
her  practical  eye  comprehended 
when  laundry  service  would  be  re- 
quired, were  in  keeping  with  her 
entire  ignorance  of  the  value  of  such 
a  creation  of  lawn  and  lace,  and 
when,  by  questioning  after  longer 
acquaintance,  she  learned  the  price 
demanded  by  French  cleaners  to  do 
it  over,  the  good  woman  was  act- 
ually speechless  in  the  face  of  such 
extravagance.  Her  hands  were 
often  raised  involuntarily  as  her 
knowledge  of  values  was  educated 
throughout  that  summer.  The  piano 
arrived,  and  Flora  could  scarcely 
4 


50  DR.  JOHN  SA  IVYER. 

ever  resist  the  desire  to  stop  and 
pass  her  hands  caressingly  over  the 
instrument  when  going  through  the 
parlor.  To  the  girl  it  seemed  almost 
human,  because  of  her  intense  fond- 
ness for  music.  The  lawn  chairs, 
with  rockers  for  the  piazza  and  a 
rattan  couch  transformed  the  front 
of  the  old  place  into  an  enticing 
invitation  to  luxurious  rest  and 
ease. 

Helen  rebeled  at  Flora's  waiting 
upon  them  at  table,  and  the  well- 
trained  Gibbs  was  pressed  into  this 
service.  The  two  girls  enjoyed 
their  meals  together,  and  the  invalid 
began  to  relish  the  plain  but  tempt- 
ing food,  which,  combined  with  the 
regularity  of  her  daily  routine,  soon 
indicated  a  visible  change  for  the 
better. 

Dr.  Sawyer  called  to  see  the 
Lindseys  the  week  following  their 
arrival  at  Harrow,  with  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  their  family  phy- 
sician. 

"This  is  not  professional,  al- 
though my  old  friend  Palmer  has 
placed  you  in  my  care,"  he  told 
Helen,  while  shaking  hands  with 
her. 

"Give  the  health-giving  air  of 
these  hills  a  fair  chance,"  he  said 
later,  to  Mrs.  Lindsey,  who  was 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  5  j 

minute  in  detail  concerning  the  loss 
of  flesh  and  strength  of  her  daughter. 
"The  fact  that  she  sleeps  even  a 
trifle  better  is  an  evidence  of  the 
benefit  you  may  expect  from  this 
radical  change  in  living." 

He  had  found  the  object  of  such 
solicitous  care,  wrapped  in  a  travel- 
ing rug,  for  the  morning  was  breezy, 
on  the  piazza  couch,  with  large  fluffy 
pillows  everywhere  about  her. 
While  conversing  on  different  sub- 
jects, he  was  studying  her  face. 
To  his  keen  intuition  she  appeared 
surfeited  with  luxury.  Society  with 
its  artificial  basis  had  proven  ' '  Dead 
sea  apples,"  and  he  said  to  himself, 
"  An  undercurrent  of  cross-purposes 
somewhere." 

When  the  call  had  ended  and  the 
Doctor  bade  them  a  courteous  good- 
morning  he  sought  Flora  indoors, 
to  talk  a  little  about  his  nephew 
who  would  remain  a  while  in  Har- 
row to  practice,  he  told  her.  ' '  There 
is  need  of  another  physician  here, 
and  I  hope  to  persuade  Clarence  to 
take  the  place — but  I  can't  tell  if  he 
will  consent  to  it." 

The  girl's  face  looked  bright  and 
happy,  for  her  mind  was  full  of  pleas- 
urable anticipations.  To  her  great 
delight  Clarence  had  resumed  his 
old  place  in  the  choir.  His  voice 


52  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

was  richer  in  its  clear  baritone 
notes  for  the  training  it  had  re- 
ceived in  Europe,  and  it  thrilled 
Flora  to  the  finest  fiber  of  her  nature, 
as  she  listened  once  again  to  its 
charm.  After  the  Sunday  evening 
service  he  repeated  his  former  cus- 
tom of  walking  home  with  her  and 
her  father.  It  was  a  beautiful  moon- 
light night,  and  the  freshness  and 
sweetness  of  nature  was  vivid  to 
the  young  people  who  absorbed  its 
influence.  The  shadows  under  the 
old  trees  formed  graceful  and  be- 
witching pictures,  and  these  two 
hearts  throbbing  with  youthful 
hopes  were  attuned  in  sympathy. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  restraining 
element  of  Mr.  Bates's  substantial 
presence,  Clarence  might  have 
yielded  to  a  sudden  impulse  and 
uttered  words  he  would  have  re- 
gretted. He  refused  the  invitation 
to  enter,  and  on  his  homeward  walk 
reflected  upon  the  impulse  which 
had  seemed  so  powerful. 

"I  am  fond  of  Flora.  Who  could 
help  admiring  her?  but — do  I  love 
her  as  I  feel  I  am  capable  of  loving  ? 
I  am  afraid  it  is  too  Platonic,  and  is 
only  a  semblance  of  the  grande 
passion  after  all.  I  must  be  cer- 
tain of  my  feelings  before  I  involve 
both  lives  in  a  helpless  entan- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  53 

glement."  Clarence  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  added:  "  I  have  no 
reason  to  think  she  would  have  me 
anyway." 

His  uncle's  wishes  were  too  pal- 
pable to  be  misunderstood,  and 
while  he  would  have  liked  to  shape 
his  future  in  sympathy  with  the 
plans  of  his  second  father,  Clar- 
ence Sawyer  was  too  strong  a  man 
to  yield  one  iota  of  his  individuality. 
The  following  Sunday  Mrs.  Lind- 
sey  and  her  daughter  drove  to  the 
church  and  occupied  a  portion  of 
the  Bates's  pew.  Attention  was 
equally  divided  between  the  city 
folks  and  Doctor  Clarence  in  the 
gallery.  All  Harrow  was  astir  with 
such  unusual  excitement ;  it  promis- 
ed the  gossips  a  theme  for  comment 
for  the  time  intervening  between 
another  Sunday.  The  young  Doc- 
tor was  to  sing  a  solo,  and  when  he 
began  it,  Helen  Lindsey  was  filled 
with  surprise.  Although  she  had 
heard  of  the  expected  treat  in  store, 
she  had  not  anticipated  listening  to 
such  a  finished  voice  as  this.  In- 
voluntarily she  raised  her  eyes,  to 
meet  those  of  the  owner  of  the 
marvelous  voice.  As  the  magnet 
attracts  steel,  so  her  looks  were 
followed  by  Clarence's  gaze.  The 
voice  and  the  eyes  were  like  a 


54  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

draught  of  elixir  to  Helen  and 
aroused  intense  interest.  She  listened 
in  each  hymn  for  that  voice  with  its 
full,  deep  tones.  Going  out  to  the 
carriage,  Helen  met  the  young  Doc- 
tor face  to  face  ;  again  the  magnet- 
ism of  his  eyes  attracted  her,  and 
her  mind  was  impressed  with  the 
stirring  personality  of  the  man.  On 
the  ride  home,  Flora,  who  had  been 
invited  to  join  the  Lindseys,  talked 
freely  of  her  old  friend.  Helen  lis- 
tened quietly  and  learned  all  she 
desired  to  know  in  regard  to  the 
young  man  without  inquiry  on  her 
part.  The  same  evening,  after  the 
walk  from  the  second  service,  which 
Mr.  Bates  and  his  daughter  rarely 
missed,  Flora  asked  Doctor  Clarence 
to  go  in  and  sing  some  simple  things 
she  could  play  for  him.  Already  she 
had  received  instruction  from  Helen, 
who  enjoyed  the  enthusiasm  of  this 
devotee  to  music,  and  Flora  had  a 
natural  gift  and  played  by  ear  with 
marvelous  exactness  as  well.  One 
song  after  another  Clarence  joined 
in  singing,  then,  complying  with  a 
request,  began  to  his  own  accom- 
paniment, a  portion  of  a  grand  "Ave 
Maria.'7  Once  at  the  piano  he  was 
absorbed,  all  unconscious  of  a  lis- 
tener who  sat  in  her  room  with  open 
door,  drinking  in  the  melody  with 


DR.  JOHN  SAWYER.  55 

intense  eagerness,  while  at  the  same 
time  his  dark  eyes  seemed  before 
her,  as  they  looked  when  she  raised 
her  own  to  meet  them  that  morn- 
ing at  the  church  door. 

Clarence  had  heard  of  the  coming 
of  the  Lindseys,  but  was  wholly 
unprepared  for  the  vision  of  beauty 
that  had  flashed  upon  him,  and 
which  he  could  not  banish  from  his 
mind. 

No  mention  had  been  made  in 
the  presence  of  Mrs.  Lindsey  or 
her  daughter,  of  Allan  Varney  ;  but 
early  the  following  evening,  which 
was  too  rainy  for  Stewart  to  be  out 
of  doors  in  his  hammock,  Flora  en- 
deavored to  entertain  the  restless 
child  in  the  parlor,  by  telling  him  of 
her  patient  young  friend  whose  days 
were  filled  with  suffering  and  depri- 
vation. 

Helen,  who  was  reading  under  the 
light  of  a  brilliant  Rochester,  which 
had  been  brought  from  their  home, 
caught  the  name  of  Allan  Varney, 
and  at  once  asked  about  his  mother. 
Flora  warmly  praised  the  lovely 
woman  she  admired,  and  when,  a 
little  later,  Helen  went  up  to  her 
room,  she  sought  her  mother  to 
convey  the  news  of  her  Aunt  Lucy's 
home  in  Harrow. 

Mrs.  Lindsey  was  almost  speech- 


56  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

less  with  astonishment,  but  from 
long  custom  shrank  at  the  very  first 
thought  of  her  husband's  learning 
of  the  near  presence  of  his  sister. 

"You  poor  little  mother!  One 
would  surely  think  my  father  was 
an  ogre.  Right  is  right — so  do  not 
worry,  dear.  I  have  always  re- 
gretted that  we  had  no  trace  of 
Aunt  Lucy.  I  remember  her  cry- 
ing over  me  as  she  held  me  in  her 
arms  the  day  she  left  our  home.  I 
loved  her  dearly,  and  it  has  been  a 
cruel  shame  to  drift  so  far  apart. 
Now  it  seems  as  if  Providence  had 
sent  me  to  her,  and  I  am  going  to 
try  to  make  amends  for  seeming  to 
forget  her.  Here  alone  with  that 
afflicted  son  whose  lot  is  so  pitiful, 
how  sad  her  life  must  be  !  I  am 
more  than  glad  that  I  may  have  it 
in  my  power  to  brighten  it  a  little." 
The  girl's  face  was  aglow  with  ten- 
der feeling.  "  Mother,  I  am  regain- 
ing health,  and  long  to  be  of  use  to 
some  one,  only  I  am  so  indolent  in 
finding  a  way.  Oh, you  don't  know 
how  keenly  I  feel  at  times  the  self- 
ishness of  my  life  ;  never  before 
have  I  reflected  upon  it  as  I  am  do- 
ing now,  up  here  among  the  hills 
where  I  have  time  to  think  and 
feel." 

"Yes,  darling,  but  do   wait  until 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  5  7 

your  father  comes  up,  and  ask  his 
consent,  or  write  for  it,  before  you 
visit  your  Aunt  Lucy.  You  don't 
know,  dear,  what  he  is  like  when  he 
is  crossed."  Mrs.  Lindsey  shud- 
dered. 

"Nonsense!  You  are  too  cow- 
ardly, mother  mine.  I  shall  go  first, 
and  tell  him  of  it  afterwards.  Depend 
upon  me  to  smooth  matters.  Why, 
what  has  Aunt  Lucy  done  ?  Simply 
married  the  man  she  loved,  who 
was  her  equal — and  more — for  he 
had  genius — the  only  attribute  to 
which  /  bow.  Money  cannot  buy 
that.  Had  she  committed  an  un- 
pardonable sin  her  banishment 
could  not  have  been  more  cruel. 
But  cheer  up,  mother  dear,  we  will 
dream  over  it  to-night." 

Helen  kissed  her  mother  and  went 
to  her  own  room.  After  her  maid 
left  her,  she  could  not  sleep.  The 
remembrance  of  her  father's  merci- 
less character  when  his  will  was 
thwarted,  lingered  in  her  mind. 
Affectionate  and  indulgent  he  could 
be — had  been — to  the  daughter  of 
whom  he  was  fond  and  proud.  Her 
failing  health  had  been  the  severest 
blow  he  had  ever  felt,  and  his  one 
desire  had  been  for  her  recovery. 
He  wanted  her  to  live  and  further 
his  own  ambitious  schemes.  To 


58  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


see  Helen  married  to  one  of  New 
York's  millionaires,  whose  attention 
had  been  too  marked,  during  the 
previous  season,  to  admit  of  but 
one  construction,  was  the  dream  of 
his  life.  No  matter  how  low  the 
debauchery  of  the  man's  nature  had 
taken  him,  his  millions  covered  it 
all.  That  his  daughter  could  ever 
care  for  a  poor  man  had  never 
crossed  her  ambitious  parent's 
mind. 

A  suave,  polished  man  of  the 
world  was  Mr.  Lindsey.  Tall, 
with  a  vigorous  frame,  and  light 
blue  eyes  which  scintillated  with  a 
green  sparkle  when  his  temper  was 
aroused.  His  complexion  was  fair, 
and  a  tawny  mustache  completely 
hid  the  hard,  cruel  lines  of  his 
mouth.  A  stranger  would  be  favor- 
ably impressed  with  his  polished 
bearing,  and  genial  manner,  unless 
he  was  a  poor  man,  in  which  case 
the  condescension  springing  from 
conscious  prosperity  would  be  mani- 
fest. 

No  member  of  his  family  had 
crossed  swords  with  him,  excepting 
the  sister  whom  he  had  ruthlessly 
thrust  from  his  life  and  heart. 

To  his  only  child  came  the  bitter 
thought  that  a  similar  fate  would 
be  her  own,  dared  she  oppose  a 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  59 

plan  he  might  have  framed  for  her 
to  consummate.  She  turned  with 
disgust  and  loathing  from  the  recol- 
lection of  the  man  whom  she  knew 
met  with  her  father's  exuberant  en- 
couragement. He  was  now  in 
Europe — this  man,  to  whom  she 
had  been  simply  indifferent  until 
now,  and  she  could  not  fathom  her 
sudden  repugnance  to  him. 

"Oh,  I  pray  Mr.  Gordon  will  for- 
get me,"  she  prayed  in  her  inner- 
most heart  "I  could  not  love  him, 
and  I  will  not  marry  a  man  whom 
I  do  not  love  with  all  my  soul." 

Meanwhile  a  pair  of  dark, glowing 
eyes,  full  of  a  hidden  capacity  for 
happiness,  would  come  before  her, 
intermingled  with  her  thoughts  of 
her  father. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  next  morn- 
"-^zr  ing  Helen  learned 
the  address  of 
Mrs.  Varney,  and 
ordering  the  carriage  for  half-past 
ten  o'clock,  drove  alone  toher  house. 
Mrs.  Varney,  who  had  seen  her  niece 
in  church,  and  recognized  all  the  per- 
fections in  womanhood  which  the 
child  had  promised,  went  to  meet 
Helen  with  trembling  hands. 

"Aunt  Lucy  !  Dear  Aunt  Lucy, 
will  you  ever  forgive  me  ?  "  Was  all 
Helen  could  find  words  to  say. 
The  answer  was  a  loving  embrace, 
during  which  each  regained  com- 
posure. 

"  You  were  forgiven   long  ago — 

do   not  speak   of  it,   Helen.      I  am 

only  too   glad  to  have   you  know 

my  poor  boy  at  last. "     Mrs.  Varney 

60 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  6 1 

drew   Helen  to   the  couch   saying, 
"  Allan  dear,  here  is  your  cousin." 

"  Your  sister, rather,"  impetuously 
exclaimed  Helen,  as  she  threw  her- 
self on  her  knees  beside  him,  her 
sympathies  instantly  aroused  by 
the  picture  of  almost  unearthly 
beauty,  saddened  by  suffering, 
which  she  saw.  "  Let  me  be  your 
loving  sister,  dear.  I  want  to  make 
amends  for  my  past  indifference — 
I  never  knew  that  you  were — Oh,  I 
did  not  know."  Helen  burst  into 
tears.  Mrs.  Varney  put  her  arm 
tenderly  around  the  girl. 

"You  mean  that  you  did  not 
know  that  Allan  was  so  afflicted  ? 
Of  course  you  did  not,  do  not  think 
of  it  dear.  Allan  and  I  are  resigned 
to  the  inevitable.  Now  we  want  to 
learn  about  yourself.  Doctor  Sawyer 
told  us  of  your  coming  to  Harrow 
for  your  health,  and  I  informed  him 
of  our  relationship." 

The  morning  went  by  quickly  in 
a  review  of  the  past  fifteen  years, 
and  Helen  left  her  aunt,  promising 
to  bring  Flora  the  next  day  to  sit 
with  Allan  while  she  took  her  Aunt 
Lucy  for  a  drive.  The  girl  found  the 
keenest  satisfaction  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  she  could  be  of  practical 
use  to  her  poor  relatives.  The  same 
afternoon  she  wrote  to  her  father,  in 


6  2  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

hpr  usual  concise  manner,  of  the 
meeting  with  his  sister  and  her  boy, 
and  to  Mrs.  Lindsey's  great  surprise, 
the  answer  laid  no  injunction  upon 
his  daughter's  step,  it  only  stated 
that  he  "wished  to  be  spared  and 
further  allusion  to  his  sister,"  end, 
ing  with  "your  Aunt  Lucy  chose 
her  path  independent  of  me,  and 
she  must  walk  therein  to  the  end." 
The  utter  heartlessness  of  this 
avowal,  making  manifest  the  cold 
nature  of  her  father,  sent  terror  to 
his  daughter's  heart.  She  dearly 
loved  him,  and  never  before  had  she 
fully  comprehended  his  cruel  nature. 
The  summer  wore  on.  Mr.  Lind- 
sey  went  up  to  visit  his  family  dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  June.  He  was 
pleased  to  find  so  visible  a  change 
for  the  better  in  his  daughter.  No 
allusion  was  made  to  the  Varney 
family.  Mrs.  Lindsey  had  refused 
Helen's  repeated  entreaties  to  visit 
her  aunt,  for  fear  of  incurring  her 
husband's  displeasure.  When  Doc- 
tor Clarence  made  his  Sunday  even- 
ing visit,  at  that  time,  Flora  pro- 
posed sitting  out  upon  the  piazza. 
The  air  was  very  sultry,  rendering 
an  evening  out  of  doors  delightful. 
Through  the  open  windows  they 
had  a  view  of  Helen  sitting  at  the 
piano  playing  for  her  father. 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  63 

The  bewitching  snatches  of  opera, 
and  occasional  song  floated  out  to 
them,  and  affected  the  man  who  sat 
listening,  strangely.  Suddenly  the 
player  plunged  into  a  powerful  ren- 
dering of  a  portion  of  "Faust." 
Clarence  was  thrilled.  He  felt  the 
depth  of  feeling  her  soul  possessed, 
thus  to  be  able  to  indicate  itself  in 
music.  Helen  ceased  playing  as  sud- 
denly as  she  had  begun  and  he 
heard  her  ask  her  father  if  he  would 
like  to  hear  a  rare  voice.  "  If  I  am 
not  mistaken,  I  heard  young  Doc- 
tor Sawyer's  step  upon  the  piazza 
with  Flora."  Without  waiting  for 
a  reply  she  went  out  to  ask  the 
young  people  to  join  her  in  singing. 
Clarence  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if 
considering  a  refusal  to  go  inside, 
then  followed  the  two  girls  into  the 
parlor,  where  he  met  a  cordial  recep- 
tion from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lindsey. 

Helen  brought  a  pile  of  music,  but 
her  father  protested  against  any 
more  of  the  classical. 

"  Let  us  have  some  of  the  good 
old-fashioned  hymns,  daughter,  in 
which  we  can  all  join." 

Flora  brought  her  books,  and 
Helen  played  the  accompaniments 
for  her  friend  and  Doctor  Clarence, 
meanwhile  listening  with  her  whole 
soul  to  that  masterful  voice  which  had 


64  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

such  a  charm  for  her.  Mr.  Lind- 
sey's  critical  ear  was  gratified,  and 
he  was  all  graciousness,  while  Clar- 
ence conceived  the  most  violent  an- 
tipathy for  the  supercilious  man  of 
wealth.  Helen  avoided  meeting 
the  eye  of  the  young  physician  ;  she 
could  not  but  see  Flora's  evident  at- 
tachment, and  she  wished  all  hap- 
piness to  come  to  this  new  friend 
who  was  becoming  very  dear,  little 
dreaming  that  of  late  an  abstracted 
air  in  Clarence,  causing  a  suspicion 
that  an  invisible  chord  of  indiffer- 
ence was  growing  between  her  and 
her  once  devoted  friend,  had  cast 
its  indefinable  shadow  over  Flora. 

"What  an  agreeable  and  cultured 
young  man,"  Mr.  Lindsey  re- 
marked as  soon  as  Doctor  Clarence 
had  left  the  room.  "And  what  a 
fine  couple  those  two  will  make," 
nodding  his  head  toward  the  front 
door,  where  Flora  was  chatting  a 
few  moments  with  Clarence,  as  he 
stood  hat  in  hand  on  the  walk,  pre- 
paratory to  departure.  "An  under- 
standing between  them  already,  I 
fancy.  Good  thing!  She  is  just  the 
girl  to  help  a  poor  man  on  in  life." 

Mrs.  Lindsey  replied  to  her  hus- 
band's words  in  the  usual  character- 
less echo  of  her  liege  lord,  "Yes, 
dear,  I  think  so,  too." 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  65 

Helen  was  closing-  the  piano.  A 
shiver  went  over  her  as  she  listened 
to  these  words,  but  she  struggled 
loyally  to  be  glad  for  Flora's  sake. 


A  few  days  after  this,  Helen  found 
the  young  Doctor  sitting  beside 
Allan  Varney,  whom  he  had  brought 
out  to  the  comfortable  hammock 
that  he  had  swung  under  the 
branches  of  the  overhanging  oak 
tree,  which,  from  its  immense  size, 
gained  the  cottage  with  its  little 
lawn  the  name  from  Allan  of  "  Lone 
Oak."  Pillows  and  air-cushions 
were  arranged  to  give  every  pos- 
sible ease  to  the  sufferer,  whom  the 
unusual  heat,  even  of  July,  had 
prostrated.  His  face  looked  wan 
and  drawn  with  intense  lines  of 
pain,  depicting  his  suffering  clearer 
than  she  had  ever  seen  it.  His  broad 
white  forehead  with  the  wavy  dark 
hair  thrown  back,  the  black  eyes, 
whose  brows  were  as  delicately 
penciled  as  if  done  with  a  brush, 
his  Grecian  nose,  cleft  chin  like 
marble  below  the  sweetly-formed 
mouth,  always  appealed  to  Clarence 
as  a  fit  subject  for  the  immortal 
work  of  an  artist. 

Helen  had  not  seen  Allan  for  two 
days  on  account  of  the  intense  heat, 
5 


66  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

and  was  shocked  at  the  change  in 
him.  When  she  stooped  to  kiss  him, 
tears  of  sympathy  filled  her  eyes. 

"Please  do  not  feel  bad,  Cousin 
Helen,  I  am  not  really  worse,  only 
this  torrid  heat  affects  me  dreadfully. 
Doctor  Clarence  has  been  fanning 
me  for  a  long  time,  and  he  has  per- 
suaded me  that  I  must  be  braver, 
mother  is  so  ill  to-day  with  a  head- 
ache. I  am  glad  you  have  come, 
Cousin  Helen,  will  you  stay  awhile  ? " 

The  boy's  eyes  looked  anxiously 
into  hers. 

"Indeed  I  should  be  glad  to,  dear." 

Helen  turned  to  the  young  man 
who  had  arisen  to  his  feet,  and  im- 
pulsively gave  him  her  hand,  while 
the  color  rushed  into  her  face  as 
she  said  : 

"You  are  very  very  kind  to  my 
poor  cousin  ;  with  him  I  should  like 
to  thank  you,  but  words  are  so  in- 
significant  " 

Clarence  interrupted  her  : 

' '  Pray  do  not  attempt  anything  so 
unnecessary  !  Allan  and  I  are  great 
friends.  Uncle  John  prescribed  for 
Mrs.  Varney  early  this  morning, 
and  he  suggested  that  I  should 
spend  a  few  otherwise  idle  moments 
here,  in  order  to  relieve  her  mind 
concerning  Allan.  We  understand 
each  other,  do  we  not,  my  boy  ?  " 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  67 

The  boy  answered  by  reaching 
for  the  large  but  shapely  hand  rest- 
ing on  the  edge  of  the  hammock, 
and  carrying  it  tenderly  to  his  lips. 

"I  can  leave  you  in  good  care 
now,  and  I  will  go." 

Clarence  bowed  to  Helen,  and 
was  about  to  leave,  when  she  asked 
him  to  wait  until  she  had  dismissed 
the  carriage  and  had  seen  her  Aunt 
Lucy,  whose  anxiety  was  set  en- 
tirely at  rest  by  her  promise  to  stay 
with  Allan.  Very  gently  Helen  did 
her  utmost  to  divert  his  mind.  His 
paroxysms  of  pain  at  intervals  tor- 
tured her  compassionate  heart. 

' '  I  cannot  help  groaning,  cousin, " 
the  boy  said,  when  he  noticed  the 
distress  in  her  face,  as  limp,  and 
weak,  he  looked  up  at  her.  "It  is 
so  hot  I  cannot  breathe  without 
pain.  Jamie  came  and  stood  by 
me  early  this  morning,  and  told  me 
I  would  have  a  bad  day.  He  asked 
me  if  I  was  not  willing  to  go  home, 
where  I  would  have  a  new  body 
and  never  know  pain  again.  He 
tells  me  I  can  come  back  to  earth 
with  my  new  spiritual  body  and 
help  mother  bear  her  burdens  by 
impressing  her  thoughts.  He  was 
drawn  to  me,  cousin,  by  my  lonely 
life,  and  was  appointed  the  mission 
to  comfort  me  in  the  manner  he  has 


68  -DA\  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

done, — but  is  it  not  strange,  he  can- 
not reach  me  in  such  an  atmosphere 
as  this  ?  I  mean,  I  cannot  see  him, 
although  I  feel  his  presence." 

Helen  smiled  and  answered  : 

"Of  course,  Allan  dear,  I  know 
that  what  you  tell  me  is  full  of  real- 
ness  to  you,  only  we  cannot  under- 
stand it.  I  would  have  laughed  at 
such  an  experience  even  a  few  short 
weeks  ago,  yet,  I  believe  you." 

"Oh,  Cousin  Helen,"  the  lad's 
eyes  grew  luminous  while  his  breath 
came  in  short  gasps,  "what  a 
glorious  world  Jamie  describes  to 
me.  Our  eyes  of  flesh  cannot  see 
it,  although  it  is  as  tangible  as  this. 
Each  one  of  us  will  have  an  ap- 
pointed work  to  do  there.  I  won't 
be  forced  to  be  idle  and  helpless  as 
I  have  been  in  this  poor  life,  and 
then, — better  than  all  else,  that 
home  is  eternal  and  everlasting." 
Another  spasm  of  pain  contorted  his 
face  and  he  groaned  aloud. 

Helen  iisked  him  if  he  wanted  her 
to  sing  for  him. 

"  Yes,  please.  Doctor  Clarence 
sometimes  helps  to  control  my  pain 
with  his  singing." 

His  cousin  began,  in  her  low,  but 
sweet  voice,  the  simple  ballad  she 
knew  he  loved.  The  boy  became 
gradually  more  quiet,  but  she  con- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  69 

tinued  singing,  hoping  he  might 
drop  off  to  sleep — her  own  thoughts 
meanwhile  active  in  retrospect. 

From  letters,  she  had  learned  of 
the  gay  season  her  fashionable 
friends  were  anticipating  at  New- 
port and  Bar  Harbor.  The  con- 
trast between  this  and  all  other  sum- 
mers impressed  her  forcibly.  From 
a  correspondent  in  Europe,  Helen 
learned  that  Fred  Gordon  was  in  the 
Mediterranean,  with  a  gay  party 
on  board  his  yacht,  and  would  re- 
turn by  mid-winter,  when,  the  writer 
went  on  to  state,  "he  tells  his 
intimate  friends  he  intends  to  settle 
down  and  become  a  respectable 
member  of  society.  It  is  very  well 
known  what  he  means,  so  prepare 
to  crown  your  conquest,  my  dear 
Helen." 

The  girl  shuddered  as  she  recalled 
his  outspoken  admiration  for  her, 
and  her  whole  soul  rose  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  idea, — when  again  her 
father's  pitiless  face  came  before  her 
eyes  as  if  to  mock  her  dread. 


The  atmosphere  increased  in 
sultriness,  the  heat  of  the  past  forty- 
eight  hours  had  culminated  until  the 
air  was  stifling  for  want  of  motion. 
Not  a  leaf  stirred  on  the  trees  which 


7o 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


stood  with  hanging  branches  as  if 
thirsting  for  rain.  Even  the  birds 
had  ceased  their  songs,  and  all  in- 
sect life  was  still,  excepting  an  oc- 
casional shrill  whirr  of  the  locusts 
which  seemed  to  sting  the  senses. 

Not  a  sign  of  humanity  was  astir 
upon  the  quiet  streets,  and  Helen 
felt  a  sense  of  weird  loneliness  as 
she  fanned  the  moaning  lad.  Ann 
would  come  out  on  tiptoe  and 
whisper  that  she  could  not  leave 
Mrs.  Varney  except  for  a  few 
minutes  at  a  time. 

"  The  pain  that's  in  her  head  is 
just  awful,  Miss  Helen.  I  never  saw 
her  so  bad.  There  is  a  thunder-storm 
coming  sure."  The  woman  reiter- 
ated this  over  and  over.  At  one 
o'clock  she  brought  a  light  luncheon 
out  to  Helen,  who  persuaded  her 
cousin  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea  with 
her. 


LARGE  white 
clouds  had 
been  piling-  up, 
which  grew  heavy  and  dark  as 
the  day  wore  on.  Nature  seemed 
pulseless,  waiting  for  relief.  A  low 
distant  rumbling  like  the  far-off  roar 
of  artillery  aroused  apprehensions  in 
Helen's  mind.  Flashes  of  heat-light- 
ning began  to  tear  in  vivid  streaks 
the  banks  of  black  clouds,  while 
tremors  like  the  whispering  of 
voices  of  the  wind,  stirred  the  still 
air. 

Helen  wondered  in  curious  con- 
jecture how  soon  the  storm  would 
reach  them,  for  Allan  refused  Ann's 

71 


7  2  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

repeated  offers  to  be  carried  into  the 
house,  and  his  cousin  did  not  like  to 
insist  upon  it.  His  suffering  had 
made  him,  in  a  way,  sacred  to  her. 
She  could  not  urge  a  thing  that 
seemed  to  annoy  him. 

"  Not  yet  !  I  want  to  watch  those 
grand  clouds.  See,  Cousin  Helen, 
how  the  huge  one  over  yonder  is 
settling  down  upon  the  crest  of  the 
mountain.  It  looks  as  if  it  would 
surely  slip  off  and  come  rolling 
down  upon  us." 

The  boy's  excitement  had  ban- 
ished all  sense  of  pain,  and  his  flash- 
ing eyes  with  increasing  color  trans- 
figured his  face. 

"  Oh,  how  grand  !  How  majestic 
nature  is  !  This  is  glorious  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  Ann,  standing  back  of 
his  hammock,  shook  her  head  as  she 
watched  the  nervous  movement  of 
his  delicate  hands.  Too  well  she 
knew  how  serious  the  reaction  would 
prove.  Helen  was  nearly  wild  with 
anxiety,  for  the  tree  stood  a  little 
distance  from  the  cottage,  and  she 
realized  the  necessity  of  getting 
Allan  to  his  room  before  the  rapidly 
approaching  storm  should  reach 
them.  Ann  started  as  the  bell  from 
Mrs.  Varney's  room  rang  sharply. 
His  mother  is  anxious,  also,  Helen 
thought,  and  she  was  insisting  upon 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


the  lad's  consent  to  her  taking  him 
to  the  house,  when  a  sudden  gust 
of  wind  swept  by  them.  She 
caught  the  side  of  the  swaying 
hammock  to  steady  it,  just  as  the 
sound  of  a  horse  furiously  ap- 
proaching, attracted  her  attention. 
In  an  instant  more,  Doctor  Clarence 
jumped  from  his  buggy,  shouting 
to  the  man  who  had  been  driving 
him, 

"Get  under  shelter  somewhere  as 
quickly  as  you  can."  He  ran  to- 
ward the  cottage  just  as  the  shower 
of  hailstones  pelted  down  upon 
them.  Tearing  off  his  coat  he  flung 
it  over  Helen's  shoulders. 

"  Run  for  the  house,"  he  said,  and 
catching  Allan  with  his  pillows  he 
threw  a  light  shawl  over  his  face  and 
strode  rapidly  across  the  lawn,  de- 
posited the  boy  upon  his  couch  and 
then  proceeded  to  close  the  open 
doors  and  windows.  The  storm 
had  burst  suddenly  in  ominous 
fury. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  would  come 
so  soon,"  said  Helen,  and  she  trem- 
bled at  the  thought  of  the  danger  her 
inexperience  might  have  subjected 
them  to. 

"Up  here  among  the  hills  we 
sometimes  witness  the  power  of 
the  Omnipotent,  and  realize  the 


7  4  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

impotency  of  man,"  Clarence  an- 
swered. 

Ann  had  lifted  her  mistress  into  a 
large  chair  and  was  rolling  it  into 
Allan's  room,  when  a  peal  of  thun- 
der, reverberating  from  the  mount- 
ains shook  the  house,  followed  by 
such  piercing  lightning,  that  Helen 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Doc- 
tor Clarence  promptly  went  to 
Mrs.  Varney's  assistance  and  soon 
had  her  by  the  side  of  her  son, 
when  he  administered  a  quieting 
powder,  for  the  electrical  disturb- 
ance was  causing  her  intense  dis- 
tress. 

' '  Let  me  press  your  temples  gently 
— so — "  Helen  said,  alarmed  when 
she  saw  her  Aunt  Lucy's  face  ;  but 
the  storm  increasing  in  violence 
soon  absorbed  all  other  thoughts. 
Doctor  Clarence  stood  by  a  window, 
watching  its  progress  ! 

"  I  have  never  seen  its  equal," 
he  said,  while  he  almost  held  his 
breath  in  suspense.  Large  trees 
bent  beneath  the  gale,  while  broken 
boughs  went  sweeping  in  every 
direction,  as  the  gusts  of  wind  met 
from  all  quarters.  The  rain  fell  in 
torrents,  the  lightning  grew  more 
and  more  vivid  with  each  succeed- 
ing flash. 

Allan    was    perfectly   quiet,     his 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  7  5 

nerves  strained  to  their  uttermost 
tension. 

Ann  crouched  in  terror  at  Mrs. 
Varney's  feet,  muttering  prayers 
which  would  have  seemed  ludi- 
crously like  profanity  at  another 
time. 

A  dazzling  flash,  accompanied  by 
a  terrible  peal  of  thunder,  drew  from 
the  inmates  of  the  cottage  an  in- 
voluntary cry,  excepting  the  Doctor. 
He  recovered  first  from  the  shock 
all  had  felt  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree. 

"  My  God  !  the  lightning  has 
struck  the  oak  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
So  it  proved.  A  zigzag  blackened 
streak  rent  one  half  of  the  noble 
tree  from  top  to  bottom.  A  flame 
shot  up  which  the  violence  of  the 
rain  soon  extinguished. 

"  Allan  is  dying  !  "  suddenly 
shrieked  Mrs.  Varney,  and  startled 
the  horror-stricken  group. 

"No!  only  fainted  from  the 
shock,"  instantly  asserted  the  Doc- 
tor, on  his  knees  at  the  side  of 
the  boy,  with  a  face  equally  as  white 
as  the  one  he  watched. 

Mrs.  Varney  sank  back  helpless, 
but  Helen  was  alert,  following  the 
Doctor's  rapid  directions,  while  he 
forced  a  little  brandy  between  the 
pale  lips. 


76  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

After  what  seemed  an  intermi- 
nable time,  Allan  was  restored  to 
consciousness,  only  to  lapse  again 
into  a  semi-comatose  state. 

Meanwhile  the  storm  raged.  Hill 
after  hill  took  up  the  echo,  and 
hurled  the  thunder  back,  as  the 
electric  clouds  discharged  them- 
selves overhead.  Wide-spread  were 
the  disasters  caused  by  this  long- 
remembered  storm.  The  "old- 
est inhabitant"  had  never  seen  its 
equal.  At  the  Bates  homestead, 
consternation  and  alarm  reigned 
supreme,  for  Stewart  could  not  be 
found  after  the  storm  set  in.  His 
mother  thought  he  was  with  Mr. 
Bates  at  the  barn,  who  had  not 
seen  the  boy,  for  Stewart  had 
hastily  eaten  his  midday  meal,  and 
hearing  the  threatening  storm  dis- 
cussed, he  had  vanished.  Flora 
mistrusted  where  he  might  be  found, 
but  no  search  could  be  attempted 
while  the  fury  of  the  tornado  raged. 
Mr.  Bates  followed  her  direction  as 
soon  as  practicable,  and  hurried 
to  the  place  back  of  the  barns, 
sheltered  somewhat  by  a  hill, 
where  stood  an  old  Balm  of 
Gilead  tree,  ancient  as  the  hills 
themselves. 

Flora  knew  that  Stewart  had 
made  a  flooring  and  seats  of  pack- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  7  7 

ing  boxes  among  its  huge  limbs, 
which  swept  the  upper  part  of  the 
steep  hill. 

"  By  Jingo  !  you  deserve  a  whip- 
ping," Mr.  Bates  exclaimed  fiercely, 
when  he  espied  the  child,  clasp- 
ing a  bough  of  the  tree ;  but  a 
glance  at  the  little  fellow's  white, 
frightened  face  disarmed  all  censure. 
He  was  drenched  to  the  skin,  with 
clothing  torn,  and  his  hat,  with  a 
portion  of  "his  house,"  were  scud- 
ding over  the  meadows. 

"  Oh,  but  wasn't  I  frightened  !  "  he 
cried,  as  he  slid  down  into  the 
kindly  arms  waiting  to  receive  him  ; 
"  but  I  couldn't  get  home,  so  I  put 
my  arms  around  that  old  bough 
which  whirled  up  and  down,  like 
anything.  I  thought  the  whole 
world  was  on  fire  once,  but  I  held 
on  all  the  same." 

The  boy  trembled  with  the  fear 
he  had  experienced.  He  was  soon 
taken  to  his  anxious  mother  who 
wept  over  him,  while  the  others  did 
the  more  practical  part  of  disrobing 
and  rubbing  the  little  fellow. 

When  the  storm  abated,  the  sultri- 
ness and  a  slow  rain  continued. 
Helen  could  not  leave  her  aunt,  and 
wrote  to  her  mother  for  what  she 
needed  when  Robert  called  to  take 
her  home.  Flora  was  ready  as  soon 


78  DR.  JOL'X  SA  WYER. 

as  the  required  articles  were,  to  go 
and  share  the  vigil  of  the  night  with 
her  friend.  The  elder  doctor  came 
in  early  in  the  evening  to  inspect 
his  patient,  and  found  Allan  very 
low,  with  his  nephew  anxiously 
watching  him. 

"  If  the  weather  changes  so  that 
the  atmosphere  cools  off  by  mid- 
night and  if  he  rallies,  we  may  pull 
him  up  again." 

Helen  and  Flora  trembled  at  the 
significance  of  the  little  word — 
"if." 

At  one  o'clock  the  rain  ceased. 
Stars  began  to  glimmer  timidly,  and 
a  slight  breeze  sprang  up  clear  and 
revivifying.  Allan  drank  a  glass 
of  warm  milk,  and  more  favorable 
symptoms  appeared.  Flora  per- 
suaded Helen  to  retire,  while  she 
remained  alone  by  the  side  of  the 
sick  boy,  who  looked  his  grati- 
tude for  her  coming.  Helen  was 
pale  and  worn  from  the  nervous 
excitement  she  had  undergone,  and 
gladly  resigned  her  charge  to  the 
care  of  the  stronger  girl,  who  was 
bravely  trying  to  hide  an  aching 
heart.  A  sorrow  had  rushed  upon 
her  swiftly,  and  too  surely — thrust 
upon  her,  through  a  look  which 
had  flashed  from  the  eyes  of  Clar- 
ence upon  Helen,  all  unnoticed  by 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


79 


her,    when    he     was    parting   from 
them. 

Flora  felt  stunned,  as  though  by  a 
blow  almost  as  fierce,  in  its  first 
shock,  as  that  caused  by  the  light- 
ning to  the  old  oak  tree. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

EXCEPT  for  a 
demolition  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  ' '  Lone 
Oak,"  which  stood 
as  evidence,  the  in- 
mates of  the  cottage  could  easily 
have  persuaded  themselves  that 
their  fears  had  exaggerated  the  vio- 
lence of  the  storm. 

A  beautiful  day  succeeded  the 
night  of  havoc,  as  if  nature  was  striv- 
ing to  atone  for  the  fury  she  had 
shown. 


Allan  was  slightly  better.  His 
strength  was  slowly  returning,  and 
Flora  left  at  sunrise  for  her  home. 
Later  in  the  morning,  Robert  called 
to  take  Helen  to  the  farmhouse, 
80 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  8 I 

where  her  mother  was  still  unnerved 
from  the  fright  she  had  sustained, 
and  upbraided  her  daughter  for  leav- 
ing her  at  such  a  time.  Doctor 
Clarence  made  an  early  call,  and  did 
not  mention  Miss  Lindsey,  but  or- 
dered perfect  quiet  for  Allan.  The 
shock  the  lad  had  undergone  less- 
ened his  frail  hold  on  life,  and  both 
doctors  watched  him  with  grave 
apprehension.  At  the  end  of  a  week, 
the  senior  doctor  announced  his 
ultimatum.  The  sick  boy  must  be 
taken  to  the  coast  for  sea-air,  and 
Mrs.  Varney  and  Ann  set  about  the 
necessary  preparations  at  once. 

Old  Orchard  Beach  was  but  a  few 
hours'  ride  by  rail  from  Harrow,  and 
Dr.  Clarence  offered  to  take  charge 
of  Allan  on  the  journey.  Acting 
upon  Dr.  Sawyer's  suggestion,  Mrs. 
Varney  invited  Flora  to  be  her  guest  ; 
her  mother  demurred,  but  the  girl 
won  her  father's  consent  who 
noticed  that  she  was  looking  pale 
and  ill, — which  Mrs.  Bates  ascribed 
wholly  to  the  excessive  heat. 

The  languid  manner,  so  unlike  the 
sprightliness  of  other  days,  spoke  of 
something  deeper  to  the  watchful 
eye  of  the  elder  doctor.  From  Clar- 
ence he  could  glean  nothing.  All 
unconscious  himself,  absorbed  in  a 
growing  passion  for  the  other,  he 
6 


82  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

had  thrown  his  interest  and  time 
into  a  work  of  philanthropy,  where 
skill  would  be  of  practical  use  as 
well.  A  malignant  fever  had  broken 
out  some  time  before,  among  Hun- 
garian emigrants  who  had  come  to 
seek  employment  in  the  factory  of 
Blackmore,  and  Clarence  was  study- 
ing its  phases,  working  incessantly 
toward  stamping  out  the  disease. 
Flora  Bates  had  never  seen  the 
ocean,  and  her  delight  in  it  was  un- 
bounded. Its  everlasting  murmur 
with  its  hours  of  surging  unrest  fol- 
lowed by  calm,  interested  and  fasci- 
nated her.  It  seemed  akin  to  the 
human  heart  with  its  tempestuous 
hours,  and  inevitable  sequence  of 
despairing  calm. 

Mrs.  Varney  read,  with  a  woman's 
intuition  that  a  crisis  had  come  in 
the  life  of  her  young  friend,  but  for- 
bore to  question,  knowing  that  time 
and  change  would  bring  reaction  to 
a  healthy  nature.  She  had  also 
noticed  the  flash  in  Helen's  eyes, 
when  Allan  would  sing  the  praises 
of  Doctor  Clarence,  and  Mrs.  Var- 
ney was  sincerely  sorry  for  this 
complication,  fearing  that  her  niece 
would  sacrifice  herself,  rather  than 
act  contrary  to  her  father's  will, 
who  would  dig  a  grave  for  his 
daughter's  heart  and  trample  it 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  83 

relentlessly  out  of  sight,  dare  it 
oppose  his  own  intentions.  This 
seemed  a  foregone  conclusion  to  the 
woman  who  had/e//  the  force  of  his 
total  lack  of  sympathy  and  affection. 
Helen  was  growing  morbidly  cu- 
rious in  regard  to  the  couple  whose 
paths  she  had  unwittingly  crossed. 
A  changein  Flora  pained  her  deeply. 
While  there  was  the  same  love 
and  attention,  yet,  an  impercepti- 
ble shadow  had  arisen  between 
them. 

The  younger  doctor's  name  was 
rarely  spoken  by  her.  Helen  could 
not  guess  at  the  pain  the  noble  girl 
was  struggling  to  conquer  by  force 
of  will  and  a  strong  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things.  Her  letters  from 
Old  Orchard  abounded  with  amusing 
descriptions  of  the  people  she  was 
meeting,  for  she  was  apt  and  orig- 
inal. 

At  the  farm-house  the  absent 
member  was  sorely  missed.  Day 
after  day,  Stewart  asked  the  same 
question. 

' '  How  much  longer  will  Miss 
Flora  be  gone  ? " 

The  boy  had  no  one  to  romp  with 
him,  and  tell  the  stories  Flora  in- 
vented for  him  which  always 
painted  a  moral  to  him  in  relation 
to  obedience. 


a  4  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

The  heated  term  which  had  devel- 
oped early  in  July,  continued  into 
August.  Allan  had  been  benefited 
by  the  change  of  air,  but  seemed 
more  sensitive  to  atmospheric  in- 
fluence each  day.  Books  lost  their 
power  to  distract  him,  and  a  tax  was 
levied  on  his  friends,  who  struggled 
bravely  to  dissemble  any  pessimistic 
tendencies  in  regard  to  his  condition. 
His  physician  would  allow  only  the 
few  to  see  him  upon  whose  dis- 
cretion he  could  rely.  Mrs.  Emer- 
son was  anearandhelpful  neighbor; 
possessing  a  warm,  cheery  nature 
herself,  she  carried  sunshine  into  the 
sickroom  with  her  presence.  One 
afternoon,  coming  from  a  meeting  of 
the  Ladies '  Aid  Society,  she  ran  in 
to  see  the  boy,  and  found  a  merry 
discussion  going  on  between  the 
Doctor  and  Miss  Lindsey,  brought 
about  by  a  message  Allan  had  given 
the  former  from  Jamie. 

"Now!"  exclaimed  the  new- 
comer, "  here  is  the  very  chance  I 
have  long  wanted  to  ask  Docter 
Sawyer  how  he  happened  to  become 
a  spiritualist !  I  had  always  sup- 
posed that  only  weak-minded — 
rather  low-down  kind  of  intellects, 
you  know,  could  cherish  a  thought 
of  such  a  belief  !  " 

"And   you    therefore   infer, "  the 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  85 

Doctor  said,  "  that  there  must  be  a 
strata  of  subordinate  matter  in  my 
mental  caliber,  Mrs.  Emerson  ? " 
The  Doctor's  eyes  twinkled. 

"No,  oh  no;  not  exactly."  A 
laugh  ensued  at  his  expense  by  the 
dubious  accent  of  the  lady's  tones. 

"The  Doctor  said,  "I  did  not 
happen  into  this — for  I  walked  very 
slowly  into  it,  with  deliberate  steps 
— wary  and  doubting  ones  they 
were,  too, — which  led  me  to  convic- 
tions. I  will  tell  you  a  bit  of  the 
why  and  wherefore. 

"Early  in  life  I  ran  across  so  many 
gyrations  in  the  general  order  of 
things,  which  refuted  scientific  ex- 
planation, that  I  began  to  take 
notes,  as  it  were.  I  did  not  know  as 
much  then,  as  I  do  now, — Allan," 
the  Doctor  looked  over  to  the  boy, 
"and  I  ridiculed  clairvoyance. 
The  first  thing  that  baffled  my  in- 
quiring mind  were  certain  con- 
ditions surrounding  one  of  my  class- 
mates, one  of  the  dreamy  metaphy- 
ical  type,  whom  I  voted  abnormal 
and  considered  tinged  with  super- 
stition ;  yet  his  unvarying  patience, 
with  his  evident  liking  for  myself, 
helped  to  modify  the  disgust  I  en- 
tertained for  his  views.  I  had  many 
startling  experiences  with  him  which 
I  vainly  endeavored  to  approximate 


8u  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

to  my  understanding.  I  won't 
go  into  that  phase  of  my  becoming 
interested  in  this  subject.  I  lost 
sight  of  Draper.  The  last  I  knew  of 
him  he  had  gone  to  the  far  East,  on 
some  occult  investigation,  and  he 
now  is  probably  a  Mahatma. " 

The  listening  group  laughed  in- 
credulously. 

"  You  remember  Jack  Thompson, 
of  course,  Mrs.  Emerson  ?  "  con- 
tinued the  Doctor. 

"Yes,  indeed,  queer  fellow,  too. 
By  the  way,  my  husband  had  a 
long  letter  from  Grand  Rapids, 
recently,  from  this  same  Jack  Thomp- 
son, who  writes  that  he  is  making 
a  fortune  out  of  some  invention." 

"Good!  I  am  glad  to  know  it ; 
his  neighbors  here  always  considered 
him  a  ne'er-do-well,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  sure  I  thought  so 
too,  Doctor." 

"Very  likely,"  dryly  responded 
the  Doctor,  who  continued  :  "You 
also  know  that  he  had  only  the 
'  towrn-school  learning  '  as  they  call 
it  here,  and  dull  at  that,  with  abso- 
lutely no  knowledge  of  literature  ;  yet 
he  would  walk  into  my  office  some- 
times, and  recite  long  verses  from 
Virgil,  asking  me  what  it  meant ; 
even  Greek,  I  have  heard  him  launch 
into  at  most  unexpected  times,  and 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  87 

correctly  ;  after  it,  he  would  scratch 
his  head  and  look  about  him  in 
that  bewildered  manner  he  had, 
which  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
being  daft.  I  shall  never  forget  one 
demonstration  of  his  power. 

"  I  was  going,  at  a  rapid  pace,  to 
see  a  very  sick  patient,  one  day  dur- 
ing that  time  when  Clarence  came 
so  near  going  under  with  diphtheria, 
many  years  ago — but,  Mrs.  Emer- 
son, I  shall  never  forgetthe  sympathy 
that  went  out  to  me  in  my  hour  of 
trial  from  the  parsonage — bless  you 
all.  It  was  the  day  that  I  was  the 
most  despairing,  and  felt  that  hardly 
a  chance  was  left  my  boy.  Jack 
rushed  to  my  gig  on  my  way  out  of 
the  village,  and  stopped  me,  ex- 
claiming, '  Doctor  Sawyer,  you  must 
change  the  treatment  and  Clarence 
will  get  well.'  He  mentioned 
something  I  was  revolving  in  my 
own  brain,  and  of  which  he  was 
most  ignorant.  I  made  no  an- 
swer, but  turned  my  horse,  and 
home  I  went.  I  have  never  related 
this  before,  although  I  have  been 
convinced  that  another  intelligence 
than  my  own,  forced  me  to  de- 
termine my  change  of  base  in  the 
treatment  of  one  of  the  most  critical 
cases  I  had  ever  conducted." 

"Doctor,"    interrogated    Helen, 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


"why  could  all  this  not  have 
been  given  direct  to  you,  and  at  the 
right  time,  instead  of  reaching  you 
through  an  ignorant  man  like  Mr. 
Thompson  ?  " 

"Ah,  there  you  have  me,  Miss 
Lindsey.  I  am  not  permitted  to 
know  the  inner  workings  of  the 
powers  that  be  ;  possibly  the  other 
man  was  used  as  a  direct  channel 
for  communication  through  a  me- 
diumistic  power  which  /do  not  pos- 
sess. Another  time,  this  man  came 
to  my  office  for  medicine  for  one  of 
his  children,  and  when  I  handed  it  to 
him,  he  said,  '  A  relation  of  yours,  a 
distant  one  is  dead — stop  and  I  will 
get  the  name, — and  sure  enough, 
he  came  out  with  the  name  of  a  great- 
aunt  of  mine  in  Colorado,  from 
whom  I  seldom  heard.  I  laughed  at 
him  and  replied,  '  I  guess  you  are 
off  this  time,  Thompson  ! '  The 
matter  never  occurred  to  me  again 
until  something  like  two  weeks 
after,  a  letter  came  from  a  cousin 
announcing  the  very  same  thing — 
and  news  of  a  legacy,  which,  by  the 
way,  the  man  had  told  me  of,  as 
well  as  the  manner  of  her  going 
from  life,  which  was  likewise 
corroborated.  Nobody  in  this  town 
knew  of  such  a  person,  and  how 
was  he  enabled  to  tell  me  of  such 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  89 

alien  facts  as  these  ?     Such  things 
cannot  be  incidental. 

' '  I  have  given  you  a  few  tests  that 
chance  to  be  uppermost  in  my  mind 
at  this  instant.  My  further  ex- 
periences with  the  phenomena  of 
spirit  power  have  been  manifold, 
but  I  have  not  time  to  go  into 
particulars.  I  can  only  say  that 
my  abundant  knowledge  of  the 
truth  that,  '  There  is  no  death ! 
What  seems  so,  is  transition, ' — has 
brought  comfort  and  peace  in  regard 
to  an  immortal  life  to  me,  and  I  see 
no  occasion  for  a  belief  in  it  to 
conflict  with  any  denominational 
belief,  if  only  it  were  understood. 
I  used  to  dread  death  as  the  opening 
of  the  door  to  the  dreary  monotony 
of  eternal  Sabbaths,  with  the  harp 
playing  and  singing,  which  was 
promised  us  in  my  young  days. 
To  my  active  and  restless  mind  it 
was  only  a  trifle  more  alluring  pic- 
ture than  the  reverse  one  of  the 
burning  pit,  waiting  for  all  bad  boys 
who  didn't  love  Sunday  school." 

"And  of  course  you  did  not?" 
said  Mrs.  Emerson,  with  emphasis. 

' '  No  !  how  could  I  ?  A  reason- 
ing mind  had  been  given  me  and  I 
couldn't  accept  the  old  orthodox 
catechism." 

The  carriage  drove  up  for  Helen, 


90  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

and  the  little  party  dispersed,  but  a 
new  thought  had  taken  root  in  Mrs. 
Emerson's  mind. 

Helen  had  ample  time  for  reflec- 
tion. Life  was  taking  on  for  her  a 
confusing  outlook.  Each  passing 
day  brought  her  nearer  the  resump- 
tion of  the  old  life  in  New  York, 
where  the  demands  of  the  tireless 
whirl  of  society  would  draw  her 
again  into  the  same  tread-mill.  She 
had  never  experienced  life  outside 
of  that  before,  and  scarcely  knew 
her  own  feelings. 

One  afternoon,  returning  from  a 
drive,  she  sought  her  hammock 
under  the  trees,  and  threw  herself 
into  it  with  a  painful  sense  of  useless- 
ness  and  loneliness. 

A  table  near  her  was  strewn  with 
the  latest  periodicals  and  weeklies, 
but  they  had  no  power  to  divert 
her.  The  odor  of  newly-cut  grass 
came  in  delicious  whiffs  from  the 
low  meadow  across  the  road  be- 
low the  broad  fields  and  orchards. 
A  shower  in  the  morning  had 
washed  the  foliage,  and  nature  was 
resplendent  in  freshness.  Helen 
looked  up  to  see  Doctor  Clarence 
drive  to  the  carriage-block  near 
a  side-entrance.  He  fastened  his 
horse,  and  walked  over  to  where  the 
girl,  who  had  risen,  was  standing,  a 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  9 1 

bright  and  undisguised  look  of  pleas- 
ure upon  her  face. 

"  You  looked  so  comfortable  here, 
that  I  was  seized  with  an  irresistible 
desire  to  disturb  you — out  of  willful 
envy,  Miss  Lindsey, "  he  said,  as 
he  took  her  proffered  hand.  She 
pointed  to  a  large  rocker  near  her. 

"The  penalty,  therefore,  will  be 
to  sit  and  talk  to  me.  Is  it  not  breezy 
and  charming  upon  this  hill,  Doctor 
Clarence  ? " 

He  placed  his  straw  hat  on  the 
grass  beside  his  chair,  his  eyes 
wandering  over  the  entrancing 
view  spread  out  before  him. 

"Grand!"  he  replied,  then,  im- 
pulsively— "Oh!  what  a  contrast 
to  the  place  I  was  in  this  morning  ! 
As  pronounced  in  effect  as  light  and 
darkness."  His  expression  changed 
as  his  mind  went  backward  to  that 
other  dreary  scene. 

"  Is  the  typhoid  fever  abating, 
Doctor,  among  those  poor  factory 
people  at  Blackmore  ?  We  have 
heard  of  your  untiring  attention  to 
them." 

"  You  are  kind  to  speak  of  that, 
Miss  Lindsey.  Yes  ;  thank  God,  I 
believe  the  worst  is  over,  there 
have  been  no  new  cases  in  ten  days, 
but  the  heat  is  against  us,  and  their 
mode  of  life  awfully  against  them. 


92  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

The  fever  has  been  mostly  among 
the  new  emigrants,  and  we  could 
get  none  of  their  neighbors  to  care 
for  them  ;  they  are  all  overworked 
and  wretchedly  poor  at  best." 

"  Ho\v  sad  it  is  !  "  was  all  Helen 
could  say,  then  she  felt  the  want  of 
feeling  in  her  words,  and  added, 
"  Life  seems  so  unequal — I  cannot 
understand  why  it  is  so." 

Clarence  smiled,  but  made  no 
direct  reply.  ' '  We  find  it  vastly  dif- 
ferent in  large  cities.  There,  people 
constantly  work  among  the  slums, 
'  where  life  seems  one  solid  body  : 
at  once  a  struggle  and  a  calamity.' 
None  but  the  physicians  who  see  the 
sick  in  the  very  lowest  walks  of 
life  can  estimate  the  good,  the 
heroic  endeavor,  of  the  many  or- 
ganizations. The  different  orders 
of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  do  a 
noble,  self-forgetting  work,  unheard 
of  by  the  world.  I  remember  an 
instance  in  which  a  member  of  the 
Salvation  Army  attained  the  rank 
of  a  saint  in  my  memory. 

"While  I  was  in  hospital  service 
I  went,  for  a  dispensary  physician 
who  was*  my  particular  friend,  to 
see  a  case  too  repulsive  to  describe. 

"  I  left,  after  doing  the  little  I  could 
toward  alleviating,  and  returned 
the  next  day,  to  witness  a  trans- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  93 

formation.  A  sweet-faced  woman, 
wearing  the  garb  of  that  army, 
which  was  not  respected  then,  as 
it  is  to-day,  had  been  in  the  room 
all  night.  Four  years  more  of  earn- 
est, useful  work,  have  placed  the 
toilers  where  ridicule  cannot  touch 
them  But,  to  return  to  what  I  was 
saying,  this  woman  had  brought 
about  a  look  of  order  and  cleanli- 
ness, which  went  beyond  my  com- 
prehension. The  wretched  sufferer 
was  clothed  in  clean  apparel,  and 
her  apology  for  a  bed  had  been 
made  comfortable.  When  I  entered 
the  room,  this  sister  of  Christ  sat 
reading  His  Word  to  the  sick  and 
sinful  woman.  I  did  not  visit  the 
place  again  ;  but  I  shall  never  forget 
the  impression  I  received,  and  I 
believe  there  are  thousands  like  her. 
Heroines  of  whom  the  world  never 
hears.  It  requires  more  than  phys- 
ical strength  and  nerve  to  do  these 
things,  Miss  Lindsey." 

Helen  looked  at  his  face  and  made 
mental  contrasts.  But  she  said  in- 
differently : 

"  It  has  been  a  fad  among  soci- 
ety people  for  some  time,  to  hear 
Mrs.  Booth  talk  of  her  work.  She 
has  a  beautiful  face.  I  saw  her  once 
at  the  house  of  a  friend  of  mine  on 
Fifth  Avenue." 


94  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

"Yes,  with  that  beauty  emanat- 
ing from  a  beautiful  soul,"  an- 
swered the  Doctor,  "  for  her  whole 
life  is  an  output  of  the  Golden 
Rule." 

"  But,  Doctor  Clarence,  would 
you  have  all  doing  such  work  ? 
What  would  become  of  the  charm- 
ing homes,  of  art,  and  music  ?  All 
that  education  and  culture,  through 
wealth,  combine  to  make  the 
world  beautiful.  Where  can  you 
draw  the  line  ?  It  certainly  seems 
what  it  is  right  for  one  to  do,  should 
be  so  for  another." 

Helen's  face  looked  so  perplexed, 
that  the  Doctor's  had  an  amused 
expression. 

' '  No,  Miss  Lindsey,  neither  would 
I  attempt  to  draw  that  line  !  Each 
individual  conscience  must  take 
care  of  itself.  The  world  needs 
brightness  and  beauty.  I  am  not 
such  a  prig  as  to  think  all  lines 
should  be  forced  into  one  hollow 
square.  I  would  not  detract  one 
iota  from  the  grandeur  of  the  beau- 
tiful structures  for  art, — the  temples, 
or  the  homes  :  nor  would  I  ask 
one  individual  to  do  work  distaste- 
ful to  her,  or  his  fastidious  tastes, 
but  I  would  have" —  the  speaker 
stopped  a  moment  and  drew  a  long 
breath — "  helping  hands  through 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  95 

the  purse,  and  encouragement  of 
voice,  through  appreciation  with 
the  money  given.  I  would  have 
the  tongue  of  the  scoffer  dumb, 
the  eyes  which  can  see  only  evil, 
blind,  and  there  would  be  found 
ready  hands  and  willing  feet,  to  do 
all  the  work  required,  even  for  the 
humblest." 

Helen  was  about  to  reply,  when 
a  sharp  cry  interrupted  her,  and  lit- 
tle Stewart  came  running  toward 
her,  holding  up  a  chubby  hand  not 
over-clean. 

"A  bee  has  stung  me,  sister. 
Look  !  "  He  was  struggling  to  keep 
back  the  tears.  "It  does  hurt  aw- 
ful !  " 

"  Indeed,  it  must  hurt,  my  boy  ; 
here,"  and  the  Doctor  opened  a  lit- 
tle case,  "this  will  neutralize  the 
poison.  What  were  you  doing  to 
the  bee  ?  " 

Stewart  hesitated. 

"  Nothing — only — "  and  he  cast 
his  eyes  down,  "  only  driving  him 
away  from  the  honeysuckle." 

"And  the  stupid  little  bee  retali- 
ated !  "  said  the  Doctor,  laughing 
heartily:  "but  he  taught  you  a 
good  lesson. " 

"You  bet  !  "  exclaimed  Stewart. 

Doctor  Clarence  stood  up. 

"Now,  then,    come   for   a   drive 


g6  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  a 
whole  bee-hive  opened  once  on  me. 
I  have  a  baby  horse  down  at  the 
next  farm  which  you  would  like  to 
see,  I  know." 

"Run  and  ask  mamma,  and  let 
Gibbs  make  you  more  presentable," 
his  sister  said,  "he  will  forget  his 
pain."  The  boy  had  rushed  off  to 
obtain  the  required  permission. 

"Yes,  I  had  that  object  in  view. 
The  small  boy  is  always  getting 
into  mischief.  I  wonder  that  I  es- 
caped with  a  whole  body." 

A  little  more  conversation  fol- 
lowed of  a  livelier  tone  than  the 
one  broken  in  upon,  when  Stewart 
appeared,  holding  his  throbbing 
hand  high  in  the  air,  but  no  further 
trace  of  tears.  When  they  returned 
from  the  drive,  Doctor  Clarence 
stopped  at  the  side  of  the  road  to 
let  Stewart  out,  who  ran  to  his  sis- 
ter to  tell  her  of  his  ride. 

"That  Doctor  is  awfully  jolly,  I 
like  him  ;  he's  been  telling  me  what 
he  used  to  do  when  he  was  a  kid  ;  " 
but  Stewart  was  off,  chasing  a  huge 
butterfly  which  had  soared  too  near 
the  boy's  line  of  vision  for  its  own 
safety. 

The  conversation  occurred  to 
Helen  many  times  ;  this  man  was 
so  unlike  all  others  she  had  met,  in 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  97 

his  strong  personality  ;  and  the  in- 
nate purity  of  the  girl  recognized  its 
counterpart  in  the  man  who  pos- 
sessed the  power  to  stir  her  emo- 
tional nature  to  its  profoundest 
depths. 


DR.  JOHN 
SAWYER  had 

lived  many  years  in  the 
center  of  the  town  of  Har- 
row. An  elderly  widow  kept 
his  house  in  order  and  the  Doctor 
in  leading  strings  by  her  punctili- 
ous habits,  while  her  son  drove  the 
horse  when  the  Doctor  needed  his 
services,  and  at  other  times  worked 
about  the  place. 

One  Saturday  evening  Mr.  Emer- 
son stopped  on  the  way  from  a  pas- 
toral call,  to  have  a  chat  with  his 
friend,  and  learned  that  the  Doctor 
was  absent. 

"  His  supper  is  spoilt,  and  Timothy 
98 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  99 

hasn't  done  up  his  chores,"  wailed 
the  discomforted  housekeeper. 

Clarence's  cheery  voice  called 
from  the  office, 

' '  Come  in,  Mr.  Emerson,  and  wait 
for  Uncle  John  ;  he  will  show  up 
soon.  He  was  sent  for  this  after- 
noon to  attend  that  poor  Mrs.  Green 
who  lives  in  the  hollow.  A  bad  lot 
Asa  is,  they  tell  me.  and  even  mal- 
treats his  wife. " 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  the  same; 
but  you  know  they  are  not  in  my 
parish,  and  I  really  know  very  little 
about  them." 

Clarence  rose  from  the  couch 
where  he  had  been  reading  and 
smoking.  He  invited  his  visitor  to 
join  him  and  the  offer  was  accepted, 
the  clergyman  saying, 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  smok- 
ing, but  the  fragrance  of  your  cigar 
tempts  me.  Thanks,  my  dear  boy." 

Mr.  Emerson  had  a  keen  admira- 
tion for  the  young  physician,  whose 
mental  poise  was  in  keeping  with  a 
perfect  physical  organization,  and 
the  clergyman  had  a  bright  son  at 
college  in  whom  Clarence  felt  an 
interest. 

"  What  will  Tom  make?  Has  he 
evinced  any  choice  for  a  profession 
yet,  Mr.  Emerson  ? " 

"  Not  any,  nor  am  I  sure  that  he 


I  oo          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

will  choose  a  profession  ;  but  a  col- 
legiate course,  I  think,  fits  a  man  the 
better  for  any  career.  He  should 
be  more  thorough  for  such  a  train- 
ing." 

The  conversation  drifted  from  one 
subject  to  another,  until  the  clergy- 
man touched  upon  the  Briggs'  trial 
then  at  its  height,  and  which  he 
bitterly  deplored. 

"I  have  not  followed  it  at  all," 
replied  Clarence.  ' '  Abroad  I  was  in- 
terested only  in  what  was  going  on 
around  me,  and  Germany,  you  know, 
is  the  hot-bed  of  metaphysical 
thought.  I  will  tell  you  what  im- 
pressed me  in  regard  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith,  from  the  outlook  at 
Rome.  That  church  with  the  egot- 
ism of  ages  to  back  her  assertions, 
claims  to  be  the  only  one  founded 
on  an  immovable  rock,  holding  a 
creed  which  nothing  has  yet  driven 
from  its  foundation.  An  eminent 
Dean,  whom  I  heard  speak  to  a 
rousing  big  audience  in  England, 
made  this  remark,  '  That  the  Roman 
Catholic  creed  was  never  trimmed 
to  suit  the  modern  market.'  His 
words  struck  me  with  the  force  of 
originality,  and  a  measure  of  truth. 
Despite  the  cold  materialism  which 
at  times  makes  the  avowal  that  man 
is  only  a  form  of  matter,  to  be  dis- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          i  o  i 

pelled  again  into  the  dust  of  which 
the  Universe  is  made,  Rome  has 
stood  serene,  holding  the  same 
power,  and  there  seems  no  visible 
sign  that  her  reign  ever  will  be  over. 
She  was  majestic  in  her  forms  and 
symbols,  before  the  Saxon  foot  trod 
Britain's  soil,  or  before  the  Frank 
had  dreamed  of  crossing  the  Rhine, 
and  she  remains  a  tower  of  strength 
to-day,  with  unlimited  wealth  and 
influence.  I  cannot  understand  her 
far-reaching  power.  Old  dogmas 
do  not  fit  the  rapidly  changing 
views  of  Jehovah  and  his  footstool. 
The  trend  is  toward  a  personal  ad- 
justment of  belief." 

"You  are  speaking  now  only  of 
agitators,  I  think,  Clarence.  Right 
down  at  the  core  of  men's  hearts  is 
a  staunch  belief  in  the  inspiration 
of  the  Gospels." 

"  Yet  you  must  admit,  Mr.  Emer- 
son, that  the  signs  indicate  an  up- 
heaval, like  the  far-away  murmur- 
ing of  the  coming  storm.  Ethics 
seem  to  fit  the  nineteenth  century 
mind,  and " 

Dr.  Sawyer  entered  at  this  mo- 
ment. A  slight  supper  had  suf- 
ficed for  the  weary  man,  who,  after 
greeting  his  guest  in  his  cordial 
manner,  dropped  into  an  old  easy 
chair,  exclaiming, 


I  o  2          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

"  I  am  tired  out,  and  heartsick  as 
well.  No,  thank  you,  Clarence,  no 
cigar  to-night,"  as  his  nephew 
crossed  the  room,  case  in  hand. 

"Has  it  been  worse  than  usual, 
uncle  ?  " 

' '  Worse  ?  Yes,  a  desecration  of 
that  eternal  mystery,  Maternity. 
Degradation  and  abuse  added  to 
utter  helplessness.''  The  Doctor 
closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  a 
painful  picture,  and  his  face  looked 
as  if  he  too  had  suffered.  His  broad, 
white  forehead  was  seamed  with 
lines  of  sympathy,  and  his  com- 
pressed lips  indicated  a  struggle  to 
control  an  angry  spirit.  He  spoke 
as  if  to  himself. 

"A  poor  woman  alone  in  child- 
birth, neither  kindness  nor  comfort 
to  brighten  her  lot  of  suffering,  which 
forced  her  to  tell  me  that  the  event 
had  been  hastened  by  a  kick  the 
damnable  brute  gave  her  yesterday. 
A  dead  child,  fortunately,  was  the  re- 
sult. As  I  was  leaving,  Green  came 
reeling  in,  curses  on  his  lips,  and  a 
blow  for  the  child  who  sat  crying 
on  the  doorstep.  When  he  saw  me, 
he  slunk  into  a  corner  muttering, 
'  I  don't  want  no  more  devilish  brats 
here,'  then  threw  himself  down  and 
was  soon  snoring.  I  tell  you  what, 
it  was  tough  work  to  keep  my 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          103 

hands  off.  I  would  have  liked  to 
throttle  him.  He'll  sleep  off  his 
drunk,  but  he'll  be  ugly  to-morrow. 
Monday  the  law  shall  take  care  of 
him,  if  I  live  to  make  a  complaint." 

Clarence  was  walking  the  floor 
excitedly. 

"  Oh  !  fora  law  to  reach  the  rum- 
seller,"  he  cried,  as  he  struck  his 
clinched  fist  into  the  palm  of  his 
hand  ;  "a  laAV  that  would  inflict  a 
heavy  penalty  on  the  man  who 
sold  liquor  to  a  known  drunkard." 

"Can  nothing  more  be  done  ?  Is 
there  no  one  with  that  poor  wo- 
man to-night?  "  inquired  the  tender- 
hearted clergyman.  "  I  did  not 
know  there  was  such  a  case  of 
misery  in  our  midst.'' 

'"  Because  she  has  borne  her  trou- 
bles in  silence,  Emerson.  They 
have  no  near  neighbors,  and  I  find 
she  is  in  deadly  terror  of  him.  God 
alone  knows  what  she  has  endured 
from  that  inhuman  sot.  I  was  de- 
tained hunting  up  a  woman,  who 
would  not  be  afraid  of  Green  to  go 
and  stay,  and  finally  prevailed  upon 
Susan  Hanks  for  a  good  compen- 
sation. He  won't  bully  her  much. 
She  would  lay  him  out.  I  have  sent 
what  was  needed  from  the  stores, 
and  to-morrow  morning  shall  go 
down  again." 


1 04         DR.  JOHN  SA  IVYER. 

A  silence  ensued,  each  man  en- 
grossed with  his  own  impressions. 

"  Dr.  Sawyer,  I  would  like  to  ask 
a  leading  question. " 

"  Drive  ahead,  Dominie,"  an- 
swered the  Doctor. 

"It  is  this.  Would  you  expect 
or  wish  that  such  a  degraded  and 
brutal  man  as  Asa  Green, — and  I 
fear  there  are  too  many  of  his  kind — 
to  escape  punishment  in  a  world  to 
come  ? " 

"  By  no  means,"  emphatically  re- 
plied the  Doctor,  as  he  sat  upright 
in  his  chair  ;  "and  yet  the  church 
will  promise  the  most  infamous  de- 
fier  of  law  that  a  repentance  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  made  under  the  in- 
fluence of  fear,  not  conscience,  en- 
titles him  to  full  communion  with 
just  men  after  death.  That  popular 
cant  at  the  very  foot  of  the  gallows 
repels  my  sense  of  justice. 

"  If  you  break  a  natural  law,  you 
entail  the  consequent  suffering ; 
Why  take  exception  in  a  moral  law  ? 
I  hold,  that  to  be  in  harmony  with 
the  inexorable  law  of  justice,  the 
brutal  with  the  liar  and  traitor,  who 
ruin  other  lives,  should  meet  in 
the  next  life  a  consciousness  of  their 
own  revolting  selves,  more  terrible 
perhaps  then  the  pictures  of  Dante's 
Inferno,  with  yet,  mark  me,  a 


DR.  JO II 2V  SA  WYEK.  105 

possibility  that  they  may  work  out 
through  that  consciousness — which 
means  punishment,  an  ultimate  sal- 
vation." 

Clarence  halted  in  his  walk,  and 
leaned  against  the  old  fashioned 
mantel-shelf. 

"  Uncle  John,  you  alarm  me,"  he 
said,  laughing1.  "You  give  a  fellow 
so  little  show  ;  I  think  I  like  the  old 
way  better." 

"Your  uncle  is  a  staunch  believer 
in  retribution  at  all  events,"  said  Mr. 
Emerson.  "  His  line  of  reasoning  is 
vigorous,  like  himself,  and  he  means 
just  what  he  says ;  but  I  cannot 
always  get  at  his  true  inwardness. 
It  took  me  some  time  to  believe  that 
he  is  an  out-and-out  spiritualist, 
but  I  am  satisfied  on  one  point. 
He  is  a  good  practical  Christian  at 
heart. " 

"Thank  you,  Dominie.  If  you 
were  not  an  optimist,  I  shouldn't 
have  sat  under  your  preaching,  as  I 
have,  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century. 
You  have  never  given  me  up  be- 
cause I  cannot  profess  your  creed. 
The  points  of  difference  in  creeds 
amount  only  to  accepted  prejudices 
in  my  opinion,  you  know,  and  he 
who  holds  without  investigation,  for 
himself,  the  faith  to  which  he  was 
born,  or  educated,  has  only  a  bor- 


1 06          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


rowed  opinion.  There  is  no  vital- 
izing element  in  it,  and  that  may 
be  the  cause  why  so  many  disgrace 
this  or  that  church,  of  which  they 
happen  to  be  members.  The  clergy 
rave  against  spiritualism,  of  which 
most  of  them  know  absolutely  noth- 
ing, while  they  still  preach  the  mira- 
cles of  old,  declaring  their  existence, 
and  admitting  that  spirits  appeared 
and  instructed  people  of  a  semi-bar- 
barous time,  denying  that  a  more 
intelligent  people  could  attract 
such  influences,  without  any  foun- 
dation whatever  for  such  premises, 
except,  I  must  repeat  it,  borrowed 
opinion." 

Clarence  stood  erect  and  bowed  to 
his  uncle. 

"  You  should  mount  the  rostrum  ! 
You  are  eloquent  in  behalf  of  your 
hobby,  Uncle  John." 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  nephew, 
my  belief  is  not  a  hobby — inasmuch 
as  it  is  born  of  conviction  and 
truth. " 

"I  believe  you  there,  Doctor," 
the  clergyman  exclaimed.  "  You 
are  too  earnest  in  your  argument 
to  be  without  truth  in  your  mind. 
My  own  opinion  is  based  upon 
prejudice,  which  I  am  willing  to 
acknowledge." 

"But  you   are   too  just  a  man, 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 07 

Emerson,  to  altogether  condemn  a 
subject  which  you  confess  you  are 
in  ignorance  concerning,  like  a  so- 
called  eminent  divine  in  New 
York,  who,  last  year,  opened  a  cru- 
sade against  spiritualism,  based  up- 
on an  interview  with  what  he  called 
a  'greasy  medium',  a  sort  of  fort- 
une-teller, and  there  are  many  such, 
who  bring  odium  upon  spiritualism  ; 
but  they  are  merely  parasities. 
That  man  hurled  coarse  invectives 
in  a  whirlwind  of  rhetorical  sen- 
tences from  his  pulpit  threatening 
to  '  uproot  the  pernicious  doctrine,' 
through  the  force  of  his  mighty 
investigation — showing  by  the  way 
he  handled  his  subject,  that  he  was 
absolutely  ignorant  of  its  funda- 
mental truths,  and  perhaps  not 
knowing  that  innumerable  church- 
members,  comprising  many  pow- 
erful and  analytical  minds,  with 
thousands  of  scientists,  philosophers, 
and  distinguished  men  in  the  literary 
world,  acknowledge  a  belief  in  a 
mediumistic  power — not  all  of  one 
kind  or  degree,  however,  forgifts  are 
differently  bestowed. 

"  Emerson,  you  believe  that  in  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era  mani- 
festations of  spirit-power  were 
given?  To  one  the  'gift  of  healing,' 
to  another  'prophecy,'  and  so  on, 


1 08          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

even  to  the  signs  and  wonders,  do 
you  not  ? " 

"  We  are  certainly  taught  to 
believe  it,  in  the  New  Testament, 
Doctor." 

"  Very  well  ;  have  you  any  proof 
that  the  invisible  power  reached  no 
further  than  that  one  period?  That 
God  has  never  manifested  through 
his  chosen  instruments  since  ? 
Carlyle  said  that  '  a  fact  is  a  Divine 
revelation,  and  he  who  acts  contrary 
to  a  fact,  acts  against  God.'  Now 
it  strikes  me  that  they  who  be- 
lieve at  all  in  Divine  revelation, 
should  be  willing  to  investigate 
patiently  for  facts,  instead  of  indors- 
ing another's  opinion.  You  would 
think  it  a  harsh  measure,  if  the 
churches  were  all  condemned  right 
and  left,  because  of  the  rascality  of 
too  many  of  your  members.  I  am 
aware  that  the  Charlatan  element 
tends  to  keep  spiritualism  un- 
popular. Naturally  a  refined  nature 
shrinks  from  showing  its  true  colors  ; 
so  the  belief  suffers,  and  not  until 
the  wheat  can  be  separated  from 
the  chaff,  will  ridicule  be  sur- 
mounted. The  faith,  pure  and 
simple,  challenges  honest  and  in- 
telligent investigation,  and  I  sin- 
cerely believe  if  the  psychical 
societies  increasing  all  over  the 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  109 

world  would  unite  in  harmonious 
action,  the  result  would  be  over- 
whelming'." 

"  Possibly,"  answered  the  other 
ambiguously.  "  I  am  unable  to 
frame  any  hypothesis,  but  does  not 
occultism  profess  to  produce  similar 
phenomena  ?  " 

"I  am  not  qualified,  Emerson,  to 
say  pro  or  con  about  that.  The 
underlying  principle  is  different, 
however,  for  the  spiritualist  claims 
proof  of  the  return  of  the  spirit  to 
teach  in  a  limited  way,  for  limita- 
tions still  surround  it,  of  its  life 
after  the  death  of  the  material  body. 
And  I  want  to  tell  you  right  here,  that 
the  much  abused  word  'medium/ 
conveys  a  different  meaning  to  me 
from  the  general  understanding  of  it. 
While  it  seems  associated  with  fraud 
to  many  people,  I  know  that  in  its 
true  sense  it  means  a  line  thrown 
from  the  eternal  shore  to  the  doubt- 
ing mind,  through  the  knowledge 
it  is  able  to  impart,  and  to  me  it 
throbs  with  the  power  it  defines. 
The  blind  cannot  look  upon  the 
handiwork  of  the  Creator,  yet  its 
beauties  remain  to  our  sight,  an  in- 
disputable certainty." 

"  Pardon  an  interruption,  Uncle 
John,"  said  Clarence,  "  but  how 
can  you  reconcile  certain  facts  ? 


1 1  o          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

Every  now  and  then  a  hue  and  cry 
is  raised  over  some  deluded  man 
who  gets  into  the  clutches  of  a  pro- 
fessional medium.  By  hook  or  crook 
his  money,  or  a  large  portion  of  it, 
has  been  made  over  to  an  infamous 
swindler,  and  the  courts  will  declare 
him  of  unsound  mind. " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  the  shameless 
work  of  impostors  is  what  spirit- 
ualism in  its  honest  phases  has  to 
contend  against.  I  cannot  harmonize 
the  opprobrium  cast  upon  it  through 
such  unprincipled  representatives. 
The  man  or  woman  who  prostitutes 
the  possession  of  a  psychical  power 
for  personal  aggrandizement  or  evil 
purposes,  parts  at  once  with  true 
Spirit  influence,  and  will  be  con- 
trolled by  evil  to  a  lamentable 
extent.  Like  attracts  like.  A  bitter 
herb  will  not  yield  a  sweet  morsel. 
There  are  unfortunately  too  many 
mediums  who  work  infamy  for 
themselves,  and  bring  dishonor 
upon  sincere  persons. 

"  Men  in  general  believe  in  the 
Devil.  We  would  be  surprised 
could  we  know  how  for  a  belief  in 
a  personal  copartnership — for  other 
people — with  him  extends.  A  man 
may  not  be  insane  who  desires  to 
give  what  belongs  to  him,  perhaps 
what  he  has  earned  himself  to  any 


£>X.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 1 1 

person  or  cause  in  which  he  has  an 
absorbing  interest,  but  it  certainly 
demonstrates  how  strong  an  influ- 
ence a  perverted  power  through  an 
unworthy  medium  might,  and  does 
become. 

"An  evil,  sordid  mind  will  work 
what  emanates  through  it.  The 
finest  mediums  shrink  from  con- 
nection with  fraud." 

"  I  dare  say,"  the  nephew  an- 
swered, "if  honest  professionals  in 
the  belief  gave  their  services  free 
gratis,  it  would  be  all  right.  Receiv- 
ing pay  for  a  half  hour's  trance, 
seems  the  greatest  stickler  to  the 
opposing  side." 

"  Well,  Clarence,  is  it  fair?  Is  it 
any  less  just  for  a  person  to  whom 
has  been  given  the  peculiar  power 
to  teach  under  spirit  control  of 
hidden  things,  to  receive  a  fee  for 
time  and  services  rendered,  in  so 
far  as  they  can,  than  for  any  other 
teacher  to  be  compensated  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  looking  at  it  in 
that  light,"  put  in  Mr.  Emerson. 
The  Doctor,  unheeding  him,  con- 
tinued :- 

"When  they  claim,  however,  that 
self  is  to  be  enriched  in  any  form  or 
shape,  that  very  instant,  fraud  and 
trickery  should  be  suspected  and 
exposed.  A  medium,  when  in  the 


112          DR.  JOHN  SA  W  YER. 

trance  state,  lends  the  brain  to  ex- 
press what  the  spirit  controlling  it, 
needs  to  use.  I  have  acquaintance 
with  a  lady  in  private  life  who 
possesses  a  gift  of  this  nature,  and 
I  know,  from  personal  investigation, 
that  she  is  absolutely  unconscious 
of  what  is  promulgated  when  in  a 
trance  condition.  She  tells  me  that 
she  never  allows  herself  to  be  so 
controlled  except  in  fear  and  trem- 
bling. Her  head  throbs,  her  hands 
are  deadly  cold,  and  the  heart 
action  becomes  abnormal.  I  have 
seen  her  often  after  recovering  from 
this  strange  unconsciousness,  which 
I  knew  to  be  genuine,  so  weak  and 
prostrated  that  I  have  felt  called 
upon  to  administer  a  stimulant.  I 
advised  her  to  discontinue  the 
clairvoyant  power.  The  tax  upon 
vitality  is  too  severe,  by  the  ab- 
normal condition  taken  on, 

"Call  it  what  you  will,  that  me- 
diumistic  gift,  more  often  found  in 
the  ranks  from  which  Christ  sprang 
— it  does  and  will  eternally  exist,  to 
demonstrate  the  permanence  of 
the  individual  after  this  life,  hold- 
ing still  a  relation  to  mortal  life  in 
obedience  to  laws  beyond  our  com- 
prehension. 

"  The  world  has  passed  through 
its  greatest  material  age,  the  age  of 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 1 3 

invention  ;  and  as  one  writer  puts 
it,  the  epoch  of  Electricity  ;  and 
now  dawns  an  age  looking  for  spir- 
itual light,  and  it  is  coming  in  cycles 
of  thought,  for  to-day  the  teeming 
brain  of  humanity  is  full  of  progress- 
ive ideas  nearing  outward  expres- 
sion. 

"  Men  ring  all  the  changes  on  mind- 
reading,  hallucination,  hypnotism, 
and  what  not,  but  have  not  struck 
the  key-note." 

Mr.  Emerson  rose  to  leave, 
when  Clarence  exclaimed  : 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,  Mr.  Emerson. 
Can  you  enlighten  me  concerning 
the  prejudice  against  spiritualism  ? 
Why  don't  its  believers  take  a  less 
odious  name?  I  was  reading,  in 
a  reliable  journal  too,  that  they 
numbered  over  twelve  millions  in 
this  country  alone.  Surely  there 
must  be  something  vital  in  a  doc- 
trine, which  in  about  half  a  century 
counts  up  figures  to  such  an  ex- 
tent." 

"  I  frankly  admit,  my  dear  boy, 
that  I  know  nothing  of  it,  except 
the  incontrovertible  fact,  that  it  has 
always  been  allied  to  fraud  and  im- 
posture. Unfortunately  it  thrives 
on  the  credulity  of  those  who  reach 
after  the  supernatural,  and  unthink- 
ingly seize  any  absurdity  to  satisfy 


1 1 4         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

an  unhealthful  and  abnormal  crav- 
ing for  it." 

Dr.   Sawyer  smiled. 

"You  are  justified  in  what  you 
say,  Emerson.  But  there  is  another 
side  to  be  heard  before  the  summing 
up  ;  and,  my  dear  old  friend,  let  me 
assure  you  that  this  fact,  remains 
incontrovertible  as  well.  Neither 
opposition  or  ridicule  have  prevailed 
against  spiritualism. " 

The  Doctor  stood  up  with  the 
two  men,  speaking  with  the  heat 
and  glow  of  earnest  purpose. 

"In  its  first  breath  of  life,  com- 
pared with  other  beliefs,  modern  spir- 
itualism already  numbers  millions, 
and  is  becoming  a  mighty  force, 
arousing  an  interest  in  thinking 
minds.  Understand  me,  Dominie,  I 
am  not  speaking  against  any  denom- 
inational belief.  Spiritualism  does 
not  formulate  any  radical  creed. 
Each  believer  may  follow  individual 
choice,  or  conviction  in  his  own  form 
of  worship.  Its  mission  is  to  con- 
vince man  that  only  the  human  is 
perishable,  and  that  the  soul  does  not 
wait  for  the  traditional  Judgment  day, 
to  ascend  from  the  grave  where  for 
uncounted  ages  it  may  have  remained 
inactive.  Fancy  the  millions,  billions 
of  souls,  awakening  at  one  instant, 
after  different  eras  of  stagnation. 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  \  1 5 

into  a  knowledge  of  the  varied  con- 
ditions surrounding  the  intervening 
epochs  of  time.  What  a  horrible 
picture  such  an  absurd  Pandemo- 
nium presents  to  the  imagination. 
How  can  the  thinking  mind  accept 
such  a  view  of  confusion  ? 

The  element  of  intolerance  is 
inimical  to  growth,  and  the  same 
spirit  instigated  all  the  religious 
wars  and  persecutions  of  an  earlier 
age.  It  invented  the  horrible  tor- 
tures, condoned  the  burning  of  the 
martyrs,  who  retained  a  different 
understanding  of  God  and  his  com- 
mands. In  the  name  of  Christ,  the 
meek  and  lowly  teacher,  the  most 
hideous  passions  of  men  have  found 
vent,  and  in  His  name  been  ab- 
solved. In  this  day  but  few  of  His 
followers  mould  their  lives  after  the 
Golden  Rule.  In  your  heart,  where 
the  still  small  voice  pleads,  you 
agree  with  me,  Emerson,  on  many 
points,  although  you  loyally  with- 
hold your  opinion." 
The  clergyman  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  We  are  lacking  in  charity,  one 
to  another,"  he  replied. 

"  Spiritualism,"  continued  Dr. 
Sawyer,  "  teaches  charity,  truth,  and 
purity,  and  should  go  hand  in  hand 
with  Christian  endeavor ;  but  the 
cause  will  suffer  because  of  its 


1 1 6         DR.  JOHN  SA  W  YER. 

Peters  to  deny  it,  under  the  glare  of 
popular  opinion  ;  and  its  myriads  of 
Judas-like  followers  to  betray  their 
principles  for  the  world's  favor. 
The  growing  evidences  of  truth  will 
continue  to  struggle  in  contention 
with  a  fraud-like  semblance,  yet 
good  seeds  are  being  sown,  and  the 
next  century  will  reap  the  harvest." 
The  Doctor  stopped  suddenly.  ' '  It 
just  dawns  upon  my  mind,  gentle- 
men, that  I  have  been  very  prosy 
and  must  have  bored  you.  Pardon 
me  if  I  have  done  so,  I  seldom 
have  an  audience,  you  know,''  and 
he  held  out  his  hand,  which  was 
clasped  in  the  clergyman's  most 
friendly  and  cordial  manner. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Doctor — only  I 
half-expect  my  wife  to  be  sending 
over  for  me."  Mr.  Emerson  looked 
at  his  watch.  "Eleven  o'clock! 
She  declares, — and  justly, — that  I 
never  know  when  to  leave  this 
office.  Believe  me,  I  have  enjoyed 
the,  Feast  of  Reason  and  Flow  of 
Soul." 

"Flow  of  Soul,"  exclaimed  the 
young  physician.  "I  should  call  it 
a  downright  overflow — a  spring 
freshet. " 

His  uncle  held  up  a  warning 
ringer,  as  he  stepped  out  into  the 
little  entry,  to  open  the  outer  door 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYEK. 


117 


for  his  departing  guest,  whom  he 
loved  after  the  manner  of  man  for 
man,  strongly  and  deeply. 

"God     bless     you,"     were    the 
mutual  words  at  parting. 


AUGUST  pass- 
ed slowly  to 
Helen  Lindsey, 
but  it  left  her 
with  renewed 
health  and  a  growing  interest  in 
life  and  its  responsibilities. 

Her  gracious  manner,  free  from 
all  affectation,  won  golden  opinions 
from  Mrs.  Bates,  for  that  worthy 
woman  had  endured  many  secret 
misgivings  before  her  boarders 
came,  expecting  to  meet,  at  best,  a 
haughty  condescension. 

The  effect  upon  the  home-life  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates  was  salutary. 
They  recognized  the  contrast  in  the 
advantages  they  had  allowed  to 
their  own  daughter,  and  realized, 
the  better  for  contact  with  cultivated 
mind  and  manners,  that  outside  of 
work  and  saving,  was  an  interest 
tending  to  improvement. 
118 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 1 9 

Flora  was  surprised  at  the  round- 
ing off  of  a  few  of  her  mother's 
most  pronounced  angles,  the  more 
so  when  she  discovered  that  Hul- 
dah  had  been  engaged  to  remain  at 
the  farm-house  indefinitely  ;  but 
there  were  whispers  afloat  of  which 
Flora  was  kept  in  ignorance  until 
the  plan  was  carried  out.  Secret 
conclaves  in  which  the  purchase  of 
a  piano  was  the  absorbing  topic. 

"You  see,  Pa,  I  know  how  she 
will  miss  this  one  when  it  is  taken 
away,"  and  the  mother  added,  in 
tardy  justice,  "we  will  enjoy  hear- 
in'  her  play  and  sing  hymns  in  the 
winter  evenin's,  for  she  won't 
have  much  to  do  now  Huldah  is 
stayin'  on." 

Helen  shared  the  secret,  and  was 
asked  to  select  and  send  an  instru- 
ment from  New  York  as  soon  as 
she  returned.  Flora  already  began 
to  dread  the  long  winter,  and  yet  at 
times  she  thought  she  could  endure 
it  the  better  if  Helen  were  away. 
That  she  had  absorbed  the  un- 
spoken love  of  her  once  dearest 
friend  was  hard  to  reconcile.  Had 
not  Helen  all  things  else  to  make 
life  lovely  ?  Why  must  she  have 
taken  from  her  the  one  joy  her  heart 
craved  ?  Yet  she  admitted  that  no 
blame  could  be  attached  to  her. 


120         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

How  could  the  man  help  loving 
so  beautiful  and  love-inspiring 
a  woman  ?  She  recognized  the 
magnetic  influence  through  the  har- 
mony of  natural  fitness,  which  had 
drawn  Clarence  to  Helen  Lindsey. 

Mr.  Lindsey  spent  August  in  Sara- 
toga, a  custom  of  years'  standing, 
and  the  first  week  in  September 
found  him  at  Harrow.  He  was 
surprised  at  the  delightful  drives, 
his  family  could  pilot  him  over,  for 
they  had  fairly  scoured  that  portion 
of  the  country,  and  the  improve- 
ment in  the  looks  of  his  daughter 
made  him  very  urbane;  so  much  so, 
that  he  proved  a  fascinating  com- 
panion to  all  whom  he  met ;  but 
still  there  was  no  question  or  men- 
tion of  his  sister. 

Helen  had  spent  a  portion  of  each 
day  with  Allan,  since  he  had  re- 
turned, looking  more  delicate  and 
frail  than  ever.  She  had  exacted  a 
promise  from  his  mother  that  should 
he  become  worse  after  her  depart- 
ure, word  should  be  sent  to  her. 
She  met  Doctor  Clarence  but  sel- 
dom, for  he  arranged  his  calls  so 
that  there  would  be  little  danger  of 
meeting  the  girl  who  had  aroused 
an  interest  he  had  never  felt  before, 
and  he  was  bringing  all  the  force  of 
his  will,  toward  conquering  a  pas- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 2 1 

sibn  which  his  understanding- of  Mr. 
Lindsey's  character  convinced  him 
would  make  his  love  a  presumptuous 
and  unprofitable  thing,  to  the  world- 
ly man.  He  knew  that  he  had  noth- 
ing to  offer  such  a  favorite  of  fortune, 
and  he  must  hold  back.  He  had  a 
future  to  carve  out,  and  his  profes- 
sion was  an  arduous  one.  He  hon- 
estly tried  to  make  an  interest  in  that 
fill  his  mind,  while  he  chafed  under 
the  monotony  of  a  small  circum- 
scribed field  for  practice. 

Doctor  Sawyer  saw  that  "  his  boy  " 
was  restless  and  unsettled,  and  a  fear 
of  coming  change  hung  over  the 
devoted  uncle ;  but  not  a  straw 
would  he  place  in  the  way  !  Had 
he  not  always  suffered  in  silence  ? 

The  late  September  days  seemed 
a  symbol  of  the  melancholy  of  his 
future  years.  The  growing  cer- 
tainty that  his  nephew  would  seek 
another  sphere  for  his  life's  work, 
was  almost  .benumbing,  through 
the  dread  he  experienced. 

Helen  met  the  senior  doctor  one 
afternoon  at  Mrs.  Varney's,  and  told 
him  that  his  old  friend,  and  her  own 
as  well,  had  written  that  he  would 
be  with  them  in  a  few  days,  for  a 
short  vacation. 

"The  motive,  however,  I  am 
sure,  is  to  renew  his  friendship 


122          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

with  you,  and  I  am  half  jealous," 
the  girl  declared. 

Doctor  Palmer's  visit  proved  a 
mutual  pleasure.  Helen's  perfected 
health  was  a  "very  large  feather  in 
Dame  Nature's  cap,"  he  said,  little 
thinking  that  a  subtler  power 
within  the  heart  other  than  he  could 
trace,  had  been  at  work  to  lift  his 
patient  out  of  her  "Slough  of  De- 
spond." To  ward  Clarence  the  astute 
man  was  forcibly  drawn. 

' '  Would  that  such  a  son  had  been 
given  me,"  he  thought,  while  to  his 
old  friend  he  lamented  because  the 
young  cousin  whom  he  had  taken 
into  his  family  to  fill  the  place  of  a 
desired  son,  and  had  educated  with 
an  eye  to  a  medical  course,  and  to 
share  his  own  practice,  had  failed 
him. 

"The  old  story,  Sawyer,  of 
'  Mice  and  Men,'  you  know.  The 
boy  set  his  heart  upon  civil  engineer- 
ing, and  I  had  to  give  him  his 
swing.  It  is  all  right  ;  Bernard  is 
completing  a  splendid  piece  of  work 
in  the  west,  but  it  was  rough  on  me 
to  be  disappointed  in  a  successor." 

Long  talks  with  Clarence,  who 
drove  the  city  physician  over  the 
hills,  for  a  glimpse  of  the  choicest 
bits  of  natural  scenery,  resulted  in 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 23 

the  throwing  of  the  social  bomb, 
which  shattered  the  last  expiring1 
hope  in  Doctor  Sawyer's  breast 
that  his  dearly-loved  nephew  would 
remain  with  him.  Some  one  else 
must  receive  his  mantle  when  he 
was  called  to  lay  it  off,  but  he 
bowed  his  head  in  acceptance,  and 
yielded  to  the  proposition  that 
Clarence  should  become  a  partner 
of  his  old  friend,  whose  fame  de- 
servedly spread  far  and  wide.  To 
the  younger  man,  a  career  seemed 
opening,  worthy  of  struggle,  and  he 
aspired  to  reach  for  the  highest 
rung  in  the  ladder  of  success. 

The  beautiful  autumn  days  went 
rapidly  by.  September  had  been 
exceptionally  charming.  The  rich 
purple  of  the  aster,  with  the  gor- 
geous bloom  of  the  golden  rod,  im- 
printed everlasting  pictures  of  beauty 
in  Helen's  mind,  to  be,  during  all 
her  future  years,  associated  with  the 
first  conscious  knowledge  of  her  love 
for  Clarence  Sawyer. 

Sincere  regret  at  leaving  the  hos- 
pitable farm-house  was  evident  in 
every  member  of  the  Lindsey  fam- 
ily, who  took  their  departure  when 
the  brilliant  foliage  of  the  maple, 
oak  and  elm,  made  the  mountains 
a  mass  of  color  dazzling  in  an  effect 
no  human  hands  could  reproduce. 


124         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

Two  hearts  beat  in  unison  of  use- 
less lamentation  over  the  going  of 
Clarence  to  New  York,  but  Flora 
had  that  buoyancy  of  spirit  which 
youth  alone  holds  as  a  reserve  force, 
and  her  nature  was  too  evenly 
balanced  to  pine  without  a  struggle 
to  reassert  contentment.  With  the 
man  of  long  experience,  however, 
there  seemed  only  the  prospect  of 
loneliness,  bleak  and  drear  as  a 
winter  landscape  of  barren  trees. 
John  Sawyer  had  not  fully  realized 
how  far  the  plan  for  his  nephew's 
future  connection  with  himself,  had 
overtopped  all  else.  Looking  back- 
ward, his  past  appeared  in  this  new 
light  as  an  arid  waste,  and  he  longed 
for  human  companionship.  Why 
had  he  allowed  the  better  part  of  his 
life  to  run  to  waste,  nursing  a  sorrow 
of  youth  which  had  no  rightful 
place  in  his  mature  years.  ? 


CHAPTER 
X. 

SUCH  an  in- 
novation as 
a  piano  gave 
promise  of  happier  days  to  Flora 
Bates,  who  warmly  appreciated  this 
expression  of  unusual  generosity 
on  her  mother's  part,  while  the 
latter  experienced  in  turn  that  glow 
of  satisfaction,  which  invariably 
follows  a  kindly  generous  act. 

That  October  was  never  forgotten 
by  either  Elias  Bates  or  his  wife,  for 
it  opened  a  broader,  fuller,  life  to 
them. 

Every  day,  when  storms  did  not 
interdict  the  visits  of  Flora  to  Allan 
Varney,  found  her  spending  a  few 
hours  with  the  boy  who  was  slowly 
but  surely  nearing  his  heavenly 
home.  Even  Mrs.  Bates  became 
deeply  interested,  and  proved  a 

I25 


1 2  6          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

worthy  friend  when  the  nights  of 
excruciating  pain  made  a  kind  neigh- 
bor's helpful  presence  a  blessing  to 
his  overtaxed  mother.  Not  a  word 
of  comment  did  this  unyielding 
orthodox  woman  permit  herself, 
regarding  Allan's  peculiar  power  to 
summon  his  friend  to  comfort  and 
help  him.  The  utter  abandonment 
to  this  influence,  and  oblivion  to  the 
presence  of  others,  together  with 
the  peace  of  mind  produced,  all  were 
inexplicable  to  her  ;  but  no  apparent 
notice  was  taken  by  Mrs.  Bates. 
Whatever  unusual  conditions  this 
all  aroused  in  her  mind,  she  kept 
strictly  to  herself,  and  Mrs.  Varney 
was  duly  grateful,  that  no  rebuff  or 
argument,  bom  of  misunderstand- 
ing, troubled  her  boy. 

At  last  the  end  came  suddenly. 
Helen  had  been  summoned  before 
the  change,  and  received  the  last 
loving  words  from  the  gifted  lad  she 
loved  so  dearly. 

He  spoke  his  father's  name  and 
joined  him,  leaving  upon  the  cold 
mouth  a  smile,  while  his  spirit  fled 
from  the  worn-out  tenement  it  had 
occupied  for  a  brief  time.  Mrs.  Var- 
ney bore  the  separation  with  the 
fortitude  of  one  who  kneiv  that  her 
boy  had  entered  life.  Death  could 
only  claim  the  clay. 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  127 

Helen  remained  a  while  with  her 
aunt  Lucy,  and  prevailed  upon  her  to 
leave  her  lonely  cottage  and  go  to 
make  a  home  with  the  Bates  family 
who  gladly  welcomed  her.  Good, 
faithful  Ann  went  with  her.  Mrs. 
Varney  had  become  much  interest- 
ed in  the  unfortunate  Mrs.  Green, 
through  Doctor  Sawyer's  sympathy 
for  the  abused  woman,  and  she  of- 
fered the  warm  cottage  to  her  for 
the  winter,  while  Green  was  serving 
a  term  in  the  penitentiary.  The 
woman  lived  in  abject  fear  for  her 
life  when  her  husband  should  be 
released  from  confinement,  for  his 
threat  to  "get  even  "  haunted  her 
day  and  night.  Finally,  Mrs.  Var- 
ney promised  to  send  her  and  her 
child  to  the  care  of  friends  living 
in  the  west,  but  enjoined  great 
secrecy. 

Mr.  Bates  provided  for  the  wants 
of  the  little  family  throughout  the 
winter  with  a  generous  supply  of 
the  products  of  his  farm,  even  cut- 
ing  and  hauling  wood  from  his  own 
wood-shed  for  her  use.  Mrs.  Green 
felt  that  she  was  blessed  indeed. 
Her  health  improved,  while  the  poor 
sickly  child  grew  stronger,  and  bid 
fair,  under  medical  treatment,  to  over- 
come the  nervous  disease  which  af- 
flicted her,  except  for  the  awful  blight 


128          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

which  brought  a  pang  of  horror, 
with  a  recollection  of  her  husband, 
obliterating  that  earlier  time  in  her 
life,  when,  a  bright  energetic  girl,  she 
had  promised  to  love  honor  and  obey 
the  man  who  had  proven  a  human 
brute,  lower  in  his  degradation 
than  a  brute  could  descend.  Mrs. 
Green  might  have  been  happy,  but 
a  withering  sense  of  fear  would  con- 
tract her  very  heart-strings  when 
she  contemplated  the  future,  should 
she  ever  meet  him. 

Is  there  a  curse  bearing  so  deadly 
upon  humanity,  as  that  which  fol- 
lows in  the  footsteps  of  intemper- 
ance ? 


Helen  Lindsey  returned  to  New 
York  with  conflicting  feelings.  Her 
father  spoke  of  the  brilliant  season 
before  her,  jokingly  telling  her,  "  To 
make  hay  while  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing." She  shrank  from  the  gayety 
in  prospect,  with  a  growing  dislike 
for  its  monotonous  routine  of  recep- 
tions, teas  and  theater  parties  ;  one 
exactly  a  counterpart  of  the  other, 
the  same  people,  the  same  sense- 
less chatter  which  had  hitherto  filled 
her  world. 

She  was  apathetic,  out  of  tune 
with  the  glare  and  tinsel  of  her 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 2  9 

showy  position,  and  seemed  to  have 
no  spring  of  action  necessary  to 
mold  herself  on  different  lines, 
She  could  not  make  a  confidant  of 
her  mother,  for  Mrs.  Lindsey  was 
but  an  echo  of  her  husband,  and 
would  be  terrified  at  any  proposed 
opposition  to  his  will. 

In  spite  of  her  dislike,  Helen  was 
drawn  more  and  more  into  the  exac- 
tions imposed  upon  her. 

Fred  Gordon  had  returned,  and 
lost  no  time  in  seeking  her  society. 
Her  beauty  which  was  enhanced  no 
little,  increased  his  passion  for  her, 
and  he  was  determined  to  have  her 
share  his  unlimited  wealth,  even  tak- 
ing a  mental  vow  to  turn  over  the 
proverbial  "new  leaf"  and  live  a 
virtuous  life  ; — which  would  last  so 
long,  as  his  "love  retained  its  novel 
force. " 

Mr.  Lindsey's  undisguised  eager- 
ness for  the  result  began  to  appall 
his  daughter.  She  dreaded  to  avow 
her  feelings,  and  endeavored  to  op- 
pose Mr.  Gordon's  attention  in  such 
a  direct  manner  that  he  would  avoid 
the  offer  of  his  hand. 

One  stormy  evening  Miss  Lindsey 
was  not  at  home  to  callers,  but 
the  servant  brought  her  Mr.  Gor- 
don's card,  and  in  reply  to  her  cen- 
sure, replied : 
9 


130         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

"  The  gentleman  insisted,  for  Mr. 
Lindsey  had  told  him  that  you  were 
in  your  room." 

"Very  well,  I  will  go  down." 

For  a  moment  Helen  stood  alone, 
nerving  herself  for  the  crisis  which 
she  felt  was  at  hand.  Mr.  Gordon 
must  have  seen  her  father.  She  re- 
membered hearing  a  carriage  stop, 
a  half  hour  before,  and  the  outer  door 
close.  She  realized  the  bitter  con- 
test she  would  inevitably  meet  with 
her  father. 

Very  kindly  but  positively,  Helen 
declined  the  offer  of  marriage  with 
Mr.  Gordon,  who  urged  his  suit 
with  all  the  ardor  which  a  man 
accustomed  to  success  could  com- 
mand. How  her  friends  could 
envy  her  !  passed  through  her  mind 
while  she  listened  to  his  persuading 
plea. 

Mr.  Lindsey  heard  with  acute 
hearing,  sharpened  by  suspense, 
the  closing  of  the  front  door  and  a 
carriage  driven  rapidly  away,  as  he 
sat  alone  in  his  library  where  he 
had  been  building  the  airiest  of  air- 
castles  for  himself,  when  his  daugh- 
ter should  become  the  rich  man's 
wife.  .  He  grew  anxious,  and  while 
Helen  passed  the  door  on  the  way 
to  her  room,  he  called  her. 

"Well,  my  daughter!     I  wish  to 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          131 

congratulate  you  upon  a  conquest 
which  will  crown  my  most  daring 
ambition  for  you."  He  held  out  his 
hand. 

Helen  sank  on  her  knees  at  his 
feet. 

' '  Dearest  father,  listen  to  me.  I 
do  not  love  that  man.  I  cannot, 
will  not  marry  such  a  man  as  I 
know,  as  you  know,  Fred  Gordon 
to  be." 

' '  What  !  What  do  you  say,  girl  ?  " 
and  her  father  rose  to  his  feet. 
"  Dare  you  tell  me  that  you  have 
refused  Gordon  ?  Speak  !  "  he  fairly 
shrieked  in  his  excitement. 

Helen  stood  up,  firm  and  as  erect 
as  a  goddess. 

"  I  have  done  so,  and  if  you  will 
listen '' 

' '  Xo  !  I  will  not  listen,  you  sense- 
less idiot, "  and  Helen's  face  blanch- 
ed as  she  heard  the  torrent  of  wild 
denunciation  against  her.  Never 
had  she  dreamed  of  the  malignity  of 
her  father's  temper.  His  rage  knew 
no  bounds,  even  of  decency.  His 
daughter  turned  cold  and  faint, 
with  a  stinging  sense  of  outraged 
affection. 

"  Know  this,  girl !  "  and  he  stood 
close  beside  her  with  outstretched 
arm,  but  her  eyes  checked  him, 
"I  am  on  the  brink  of  financial 


132          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

ruin.  I  have  spared  you  and  your 
mother  the  knowledge,  counting 
surely  on  this  marriage  for  you ; 
for  I  did  not  know  that  my  daughter 
was  a  FOOL  !  The  news  in  Wall 
Street  that  the  millions  of  Gordon 
were  coming  into  my  family,  would 
have  opened  the  way  for  me  to 
meet  my  obligations.  I  could  have 
bridged  over  the  time,  but  now, 
I  am  irrevocably  ruined — CURSE 
YOU  ! " 

Helen  turned  and  hastily  left  the 
room  where  her  enraged  father 
stood  with  a  dangerous  gleam  in 
his  eyes.  Were  he  ten  times  over 
her.  father,  she  denied  his  right  to 
insult  her  or  trample  upon  her  feel- 
ings as  he  was  doing. 

For  hours  she  walked  her  room  ; 
the  news  of  the  loss  of  their  fortune 
only  touched  her  for  her  parents' 
sake.  She  began  to  question  if,  after 
all,  it  would  not  have  been  better  to 
have  sacrificed  herself. 

What  did  it  all  amount  to,  this 
life  at  best?  She  felt  that  almost 
any  condition  would  have  been  pref- 
erable, to  the  feeling  of  disgust  and 
aversion  toward  a  father  she  had 
once  loved.  Her  sensibilities  were 
so  deadened  that  she  even  reflected 
upon  sending  a  re-considered  ac- 
ceptance of  the  abhorred  suitor's 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER  1 33 

proposal,  when  a  remembrance  of 
Clarence  Sawyer  flashed  athwart  her 
memory,  and  she  reeled,  and  caught 
hold  of  her  dressing-table  for  sup- 
port. 

"  God  help  me!"  she  cried,  "I 
could  not ;  better  ruin, — aye,  death 
itself  than  such  immolation  of  soul 
and  body."  The  thought  nerved 
her  to  consider  more  calmly.  Over 
and  over  in  her  mind  revolved  the 
most  futile  schemes. 

She  could  not  meet  her  father 
while  he  cherished  such  bitter  feel- 
ing. She  could  not  bear  the  tearful 
reproaches  which  her  mother  would 
heap  upon  her,  for  daring  to  oppose 
that  law  which  had  governed  her 
own  life  since  she  became  George 
Lindsey's  wife.  Helen  felt  a  thrill 
of  sympathy  for  her  mother's  lack 
of  personality,  and  wished  she  had 
shown  more  consideration  in  many 
ways. 

The  morning  came,  and  the  girl 
with  swollen  eyes  and  throbbing 
temples,  threw  herself  upon  her  bed, 
with  a  strange  sense  of  comfort  in 
the  thought  that  she  was  going  to 
be  ill.  When  her  maid  came,  word 
was  sent  to  Mrs.  Lindsey  that  her 
daughter  had  passed  a  sleepless 
night,  and  did  not  wish  to  be  dis- 
turbed. 


134          DR-  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

Mr.  Lindsey  spoke  no  word  of  what 
had  passed  to  his  wife.  Her  sympa- 
thy with  him,  as  in  all  other  matters, 
was  a  foregone  conclusion,  based 
upon  the  training  he  had  given  her, 
and  he  felt  it  would  bore  him  now 
with  its  commonplace  platitudes. 
The  following  days  were  a  coun- 
terpart, one  of  the  other. 

Helen  did  not  breakfast  with  the 
family  :  she  was  really  ill  with  over- 
wrought nerves,  and  the  old  in- 
somnia had  returned.  Dr.  Palmer 
ordered  perfect  quiet  at  each  visit, 
and,  while  Mrs.  Lindsey  felt  there 
was  some  mysterious  influence 
shadowing  them,  she  dared  not  in- 
terfere. Her  husband  dined  every 
night  at  his  club,  for  he  could 
not  endure  his  home.  A  reaction 
had  followed,  and  the  man  was 
hardly  responsible  for  what  he  was 
doing. 

A  week  from  the  day  he  had  sent 
his  daughter  from  him  with  his 
curse,  he  left  his  house,  feeling  that 
a  crisis  was  impending.  He  knew 
the  time  had  come  when  nothing 
short  of  a  miracle  could  turn  the 
tide  rising  to  engulf  him. 

The  day  passed  even  more  dis- 
astrously than  his  worst  fears  had 
apprehended.  He  felt  at  times  the 
truth  of  the  ancient  belief. 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  135 


"  Whom   the  gods  would  destroy,  they  first 
make  mad." 


Madness  seemed  the  certain  doom 
to  his  overwrought  mind.  Events 
precipitated  upon  each  other  in  an 
unlooked-for  manner.  Where  time 
had  been  expected  to  keep  an  in- 
tervening bridge  over  the  torrent, 
instead  a  perfect  cyclone  of  disaster 
had  poured  into  Wall  Street. 

Mr.  Lindsey  would  see  no  one 
but  the  harbingers  of  evil  who  flew 
in  and  out  of  his  private  office. 
When  the  wires  had  ceased  their 
work  for  the  day,  he  left  the  build- 
ing by  a  rear  entrance,  and  was 
driven  to  a  down-town  hotel,  where 
he  dined  alone  unnoticed,  and  ob- 
livious to  those  about  him.  His 
brain  was  vibrating  with  discordant 
perturbation;  he  scarcely  could  have 
defined  what  was  uppermost.  One 
minute  a  suffocating  feeling  of  hatred 
toward  the  daughter  who  once  had 
it  in  her  power  to  have  saved  him 
from  this  ;  another,  and  a  dull  pain- 
ful sense  of  having  been  the  arbiter 
of  his  own  destiny,  smote  him  with 
a  force  benumbing  all  else.  He 
entered  a  cab  at  nine  o'clock,  and 
went  to  his  home,  seeking  his  library 
where  a  solemn  silence  reigned. 

For  hours  he  sat  where,  just  one 


136          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


week  before,  it  seemed  to  him  a 
generation  ago,  he  had  indulged  in 
such  glowing  prospects,  through  the 
sure  presumption  that  his  daughter 
would  marry  the  millions  awaiting 
her  acceptance,  and  thereby  enable 
him  to  reap  a  large  harvest  through 
recent  unscrupulous  speculation.  A 
stronger  will  than  his  had  changed 
the  current  of  events,  and  frustrated 
his  schemes.  He  realized,  in  all 
its  humiliating  cost,  the  present  im- 
potence of  his  indomitable  will  and 
arrogant  pride. 

A  picture  of  his  youth  and  man- 
hood, with  the  contrasting  one  of 
a  dishonored  and  loveless  old  age, 
glided  panorama-like  before  his 
mind's  eye. 

Would  he  prove  strong  enough, 
or  weak,  according  as  the  world — 
his  world — viewed  it,  to  take  the  life 
he  began  to  abhor  ? 

He  arose  to  summon  the  butler 
to  fetch  him  a  bottle  of  brandy  ;  as 
he  touched  the  button  a  sharp  cry 
startled  his  wife,  who  was  sitting  in 
the  adjoining  room,  with  a  dread  of 
impending  evil,  yet  not  daring  to 
intrude  upon  him. 

She  heard  a  heavy  fall.  Before 
she  could  reach  him  her  husband 
was  stretched  upon  the  floor,  in- 
sensible. 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


137 


The  distorted  face  told  its  story. 
When  Doctor  Palmer  reached  the 
side  of  the  stricken  man,  a  glance 
sufficed  to  show  him  the  truth. 

"He  will  never  be  conscious 
again,"  was  the  verdict  of  investi- 
gation. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  numerous 
social  visits  of  Doc- 
tor Sawyer  had 
proved  a  source  of  amused  curios- 
ity to  the  girl  at  the  farmhouse. 
Speaking  of  it  one  day  to  her 
mother,  Mrs.  Bates  replied  with 
characteristic  bluntness  : 

"  There's  no  tellin'  what  may 
happen,  but  mind  your  own  affairs, 
child."  And  no  further  notice  was 
apparently  taken  of  the  doctor's 
coming  and  going. 

One  blustering  January  morning, 
he  stopped  on  his  way  out  into  the 
country,  "to  warm  up,"  he  said, 
and  stood  by  the  large  cheerful 
stove  in  the  sitting-room,  talking 
with  Mrs.  Bates,  who  had  a  growing 
138 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  139 

conviction  that  she  was  getting  the 
worst  of  an  argument,  when  a  tele- 
gram was  brought  to  Mrs.  Varney 
from  Helen,  announcing  her  father's 
death,  and  begging  her  aunt  to  come 
to  them. 

The  news  was  a  shock  !  Mr. 
Lindsey  had  seemed  such  a  hardy 
robust  man,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
credit  his  stepping  out  from  the 
ranks  of  living  men  so  suddenly. 

They  felt  a  sense  of  awful  solem- 
nity, in  this  striking  down  without 
warning,  of  one  in  all  the  vigor  of 
manhood.  Mrs.  Varney,  assisted  by 
the  others,  was  soon  in  readiness, 
and  parted  from  these  kind  friends, 
who  seemed  destined  to  share  a 
part  of  all  her  troubles.  Her  re- 
turn would  be  uncertain  ;  she  would 
remain  with  her  niece  if  needed, 
until  spring.  Ann  continued  to  stay 
at  the  farmhouse. 

Mrs.  Bates  often  exclaimed,  that 
"she  couldn't  find  enough  to  do,  to 
keep  her  out  of  mischief  since  the 
Scotchwoman  came." 

When  Doctor  Sawyer  left  Mrs. 
Varney  at  the  station,  he  knew  that 
he  was  going  to  be  more  lonely 
than  ever. 

For  several  days  after  her  departure 
he  had  difficulty  in  concentrating  his 
mind  upon  his  work.  Here  was 


1 4.0         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

the  needed  lever  to  open  his  eyes 
to  the  full  understanding  that  he 
loved  this  woman  with  all  the  fer- 
vor of  his  earlier  years,  and  his 
mental  processes  were  rapid  in 
evolving  his  future  plans. 

An  intense  desire  to  rebuild  the 
outgrown  structure  of  his  life,  if 
Lucy  Varney  could  be  induced  to 
share  his  home,  took  possession  of 
the  practical  man,  whose  heart  was 
filled  with  the  image  of  the  lovely 
woman  who  had  insensibly  glided 
into  it.  The  haunting  dread  of 
approaching  age  no  longer  loomed 
up  before  him  like  the  phantom  ship 
sailing  ahead  of  the  mariner. 

Letters  from  New  York  were 
frequent  to  Doctor  Sawyer,  "  in  an- 
other handwritin'  than  Clarence's," 
so  said  the  village  postmistress  to 
her  better  half. 

None  of  the  gossips  knew  why 
the  Doctor  had  bought  the  old  Cox 
place  situated  half  way  between  the 
village  and  Elias  Bates's  farm,  and 
when  in  the  spring  the  house  was 
remodeled  and  "all  cityfied  up," 
wonder  grew  apace.  To  one  of 
the  most  daring  of  the  curious  ques- 
tioners he  replied  in  an  evasive 
manner  : 

"  After  I  get  that  place  as  perfect 
as  my  means  will  allow  me  to  make 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 4 1 

it,  I  am  going  to  hunt  up  the 
happiest  family  I  can  find  to  live 
in  it." 


When  Mrs.  Varney  had  reached 
the  imposing  mansion  where  death 
had  made  an  entrance  she  found 
her  brother's  widow  sorrowful  and 
penitent  :  she  implored  forgiveness 
for  her  neglect  and  cruel  indiffer- 
ence during  the  past  summer.  It 
was  freely  given,  and  when  the 
harshly-treated  sister  stood  beside 
the  silent  body,  that  had  contained 
the  hard  and  selfish  nature,  the 
significance  of  George  Eliot's  words 
occurred  to  her. 

"  When  death  the  great  reconciler 
has  come,  it  is  never  our  tenderness 
that  we  repent  of — but  our  severity. " 

She  felt  only  infinite  pity  for  the 
sure  suffering  his  spirit  would 
endure  in  those  dark  shadows  where 
remorse  stings  like  a  serpent.  Her 
eyes  had  not  rested  upon  her  only 
brother  since  the  memorable  day, 
long  years  before,  when  he  had 
ruthlessly  repudiated  the  tie  of 
sisterly  love. 

He  had  bidden  her  then  to  go  her 
way — and  now  he  had  been  sum- 
moned to  go  his  way  alone,  with 
his  life's  work  all  unfinished.  Who 


1 42          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

could  straighten  the  tangled  threads 
torn  from  his  hands  ? 


When  all  was  over  and  Helen 
braced  herself  to  learn  the  worst  in 
regard  to  their  affairs,  it  was  found 
that  her  father  had  been  too  heavily 
involved  to  honorably  allow  his 
family  to  retain  their  home,  al- 
though it  had  been  purchased  in 
Mrs.  Lindsey's  name.  The  house, 
furniture,  horses,  and  all  were  turned 
over  to  creditors.  Even  a  bank 
account  in  her  name,  which  her 
husband  had  placed  there  against  a 
time  of  need,  Helen  insisted  should 
be  given  for  her  father's  debts,  and 
Mrs.  Lindsey  agreed  to  all  that  was 
demanded  of  her.  A  substantial 
life  insurance  still  remained,  and 
would  enable  the  little  family  to 
live  in  a  simple  manner. 

Mrs.  Varney  was  a  host  in  herself 
to  Helen.  A  cozy  apartment  was 
hired  in  an  unfashionable  part  of 
the  city  and  thither  they  removed. 
Helen  grieved  sorely  for  her  father 
whose  tragic  passing  out  of  life 
would  be  a  bitter  memory  for  long 
years  to  come,  for  the  conditions 
had  been  personally  painful :  yet  she 
well  knew  that  the  end  had  been 
merciful.  His  proud  spirit  would 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 43 

have    illy    brooked    the     "  casting- 
down  from  high  places." 

To  Fred  Gordon's  credit,  be  it 
said  that  his  offer  of  marriage  was 
renewed,  and  he  pleaded  earnestly, 
with  the  girl  capable  of  such  heroic 
measures,  to  listen  to  his  suit.  She 
could  but  yield  a  certain  respect  for 
the  disinterested  loyal  affection,  but 
she  had  no  love  to  give  him,  and  to 
his  pleadings  for  time  to  enable  him 
to  win  even  a  tithe  of  what  he  felt 
for  her,  the  answer  remained — no. 
Helen  felt  a  sense  of  satisfaction 
that  she  could  live  independent  of 
the  exactions  of  society.  The  friends 
she  valued  the  most  remained  faith- 
ful and  devoted.  Out  of  the  fire, 
the  true  metal  stood  pure  and  un- 
alloyed. 


Clarence  Sawyer  had  not  visited 
the  Lindseys  after  his  association 
with  Dr.  Palmer  had  been  consum- 
mated, until  their  affliction  came. 
In  order  to  keep  his  mind  free  from 
useless  experiments  with  his  love 
for  Helen,  he  knew  that  a  distance 
must  be  kept  between  them,  so  he 
had  concentrated  all  his  energies 
upon  the  career  so  generously 
opened.  But  the  struggle  was  tell- 
ing-upon  him,  and  he  acknowledged 


1 44        DR  .  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

that  his  morbid  feelings  were  not  in 
keeping  with  his  own  estimate  of 
his  strength.  Through  his  associate 
he  learned  of  the  sad  vicissitudes  in 
Helen's  life  and  of  her  nobility  of 
character.  He  lost  no  time  in 
going  to  express  his  heart-felt  sym- 
pathy, while  he  could  not  refrain 
from  showing  and  speaking  his  un- 
disguised admiration. 

One  evening  he  was  calling  at 
the  pleasant  apartment,  and  the 
conversation  turned  to  Harrow. 
Clarence  related  a  piece  of  news 
which  Mrs.  Varney  already  knew, 
that  a  young  physician  had 
located  between  that  town  and 
Blackmore. 

"I  am  right  glad  of  it,"  he  went 
on  to  say,  "for it  will  relieve  Uncle 
John  of  the  more  laborious  portion 
of  his  work.  He  has  devoted  the 
greater  part  of  his  life  to  it,  and 
now  needs  assistance  and  leisure." 

Helen  chanced  to  look  over  to 
her  Aunt  Lucy  during  the  above, 
and  a  light  broke  over  her  under- 
standing. The  rising  color  and  ex- 
pressive eyes  of  the  absorbed  list- 
ener, bespoke  a  tenderer  appreciation 
for  the  senior  Doctor's  worthy  self 
than  words  could  have  done,  and 
the  girl  averted  her  eyes,  feeling 
that  they  had  been  guilty  of  the 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 45 

rude  possession  of  a  well-guarded 
secret. 

Throughout  the  winter,  Mrs. 
Varney  had  found  diversion  in  in- 
vestigating the  different  order  of 
spiritualistic  phenomena,  and  she 
availed  herself  of  all  the  opportu- 
nities which  a  large  city  presents,  to 
do  so. 

Her  own  son's  peculiar  medium- 
ship  had  assured  her  that  there  ex- 
isted in  some  instances  a  controlling 
action  of  a  spiritual  character  which 
proved  the  permanence  of  the 
characteristic  of  the  in  dividual,  after 
the  mortal  change.  She  discerned 
that  a  stronger  interest  was  grow- 
ing in  the  subject,  and  saw  with 
gladness,  the  evidences  of  increas- 
ing courage  to  resist  the  pressure  of 
hostile  opposition  from  those  who 
•would  not  lend  an  ear  to  argument. 

Her  progressive  mind  enjoyed 
looking  for  an  enduring  basis  of  im- 
mortality not  subject  to  the  disso- 
lution of  the  body  or  destruction 
of  individual  character.  Theosophy 
presented  nothing  tangible  to  her 
mind,  for  she  could  not  penetrate 
the  fog  of  mysticism  surrounding 
it,  although  she  attended  the  meet- 
ings occasionally,  in  sympathy 
with  the  fact  that  it  assisted  to 
trample  upon  the  gross  materialism 


146         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

of  the  age,  and  routed  the  utter 
want  of  reasoning  in  the  plea  of 
the  Agnostic,  who  puts  intelligent 
comprehension  under  the  foot  of 
imbecility. 

At  one  of  the  heterogeneous 
assemblies,  to  which  her  insatiable 
desire  to  see  and  hear  all,  led  her, 
she  learned  of  a  superior  medium. 
A  few  interviews  resulted  in  a 
friendship  between  the  two.  Mrs. 
Litchfield  was  a  woman  of  rare 
refinement  and  tact,  whose  endow- 
ment of  trance  conditions  she  did 
not  attempt  to  explain,  upon  any 
metaphysical,  or  philosophical  basis. 
She  simply  said  she  knew  no  more 
about  it  than  her  patrons.  "  It  was 
not  sought  by  me,  and  I  struggled 
helplessly  against  its  power  until 
forced  by  a  chain  of  circumstances 
to  use  what  had  been  thrust  upon 
me  by  a  stronger  will  than  my  own. 
Every  prop  was  removed,  until  I 
humbled  my  pride  to  do  the  work 
put  into  my  hands. " 

This  was  the  universal  reply  to 
the  expostulations  of  her  old  friends 
whose  standard  of  social  positions 
floated  only  in  the  breeze  of  popular 
opinion. 

When  Mrs.  Varney  had  satisfied 
herself  that  the  lady  was  entirely 
free  from  any  professional  cant,  and 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          147 

that  her  mediumship  was  a  shrine 
before  which  truth  and  honest 
purpose  stood  guard,  she  obtained 
permission  from  her  sister-in-law 
and  niece  to  arrange  for  a  sitting  in 
their  home,  at  which  Doctor  Clar- 
ence was  invited  to  be  present.  At 
the  close  of  the  interview  Mrs. 
Lindsey  was  sobbing,  while  all  were 
visibly  affected  by  the  undeniable 
proof  of  a  superhuman  agency. 
Doctor  Clarence  had  hitherto  been 
skeptical  and  an  animated  discus- 
sion followed  the  time  during  which 
the  guest  had  remained  in  a  trance, 
so  genuine  to  the  eye  of  the  physi- 
cian that  he  frankly  admitted  it. 
The  evidences  of  a  primary  intel- 
ligence were  startling,  and  the  con- 
ditions taken  on  too  graphic  to 
allow  any  hypothesis  other  than 
that  of  spirit  control. 

"  But  why,  Mrs.  Litchfield — par- 
don my  bluntness — do  you  require  a 
darkened  room  to  go  into  this  un- 
conscious state  ?  " 

"Ah.  you  think  that  savors  of  hum- 
bug. Light  is  positive  :  could  you  as 
easily  give  yourself  up  to  the  influ- 
ence of  sleep  in  a  bright  light,  as  in 
a  subdued  one  ?  I  really  cannot 
explain  it,  unless  the  magnetic 
current  is  more  active  and  I  am  in- 
fluenced the  quicker  by  semi-dark- 


148          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

ness.  Some  people  are  so  positive 
in  their  natures  that  they  antagonize 
this  influence,  and  if  I  am  enabled 
to  give  them  what  is  called  a  'sit- 
ting '  it  may  be  so  unsatisfactory 
that  they  go  away  grumbling,  ready 
nine  times  out  of  ten  to  assert  that 
I  only  guess  at  things.  I  care  not 
how  skeptical  a  person  may  be,  if 
only  he  or  she,  are  willing  to  be 
passive  instead  of  trying  to  antag- 
onize. Of  course  if  it  all  depended 
upon  my  own  will,  I  could  give  each 
and  all  what  they  wanted,  but  I  am 
only  the  instrument  of  what — I 
never  attempt  to  define  it — acts 
through  me." 

"  One  question  more,  Mrs.  Litch- 
field  :  why  do  you  appear  to  be  at 
first  controlled  by  an  Indian  ? 
Although  a  beautiful  young  Indian 
girl  is  not  objectionable  in  an 
aesthetic  sense,"  laughingly  inquired 
Clarence. 

"  Doctor  Sawyer,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  my  theory  is,  that  the  Indian 
lives  so  near  to  the  earth  untrammel- 
ed  by  any  artificial  condition  that 
his  magnetism  may  be  stronger. 
What  could  be  nearer  truth  and 
purity  than  an  exalted  type  of  Indian 
girlhood  ?  History  recalls  occa- 
sional instances  of  the  rarest  types 
of  truth  and  honesty  among  them, 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  \  49 

revolting,  as  the  Indian  character 
is  in  the  aggregate.  Their  happy 
hunting-grounds  and  their  faith  in 
the  Great  Father,  has  its  origin 
through  that  Divine  spark,  which 
leads  the  civilized  world  to  yearn  for 
immortality.  Naturally  their  souls' 
sphere  must  be  nearer  the  earth  ; 
Why  could  they  not  be  permitted 
then,  to  act  as  guides  through  a 
stronger  magnetism  ?  At  times  I  do 
not  need  such  control,  and  often 
reach  the  spirit-friends  waiting  to 
give  messages,  without  intervention. 

' '  This  is  not  a  pleasant  side  to  me. 
I  awaken  to  find  people  in  tears — 
often  bitter  grief,  called  out  by  their 
experiences.  The  frivolous  have 
no  use  for  my  ministrations  ;  only 
they  who  have  suffered  need  the 
consolation  which  spiritual  com- 
munion of  this  nature  can  give. 

"Among  my  patrons  is  a  clergy- 
man upon  whom  sorrow  has  laid  a 
heavy  hand,  and  he  tells  me  that 
what  he  receives  of  the  evidence 
that  his  dear  ones  are  still  with  him 
in  their  spiritual  bodies,  tends  to 
make  him  contented. 

"I  get  nothing  for  myself — it  is 
all  given  out  to  others  ;  but  it  seems 
to  be  my  mission  as  long  as  my 
vitality  holds  out. " 

"To  me,"  Helen  says,  "the  un- 


150         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

pleasant  part  would  be  contact 
with  coarse  and  overbearing  peo- 
ple. " 

Mrs.  Litchfield  laughed. 

"  I  certainly  see  some  very  un- 
lovely phases  of  human  nature,  but 
I  never  have  any  fear.  My  guides 
take  care  of  me,  and  I  am  often 
warned,  by  impressions,  in  what 
way  to  act." 

' '  Well,  Mrs.  Litchfield,  I  believe 
you  to  be  singularly  gifted,"  said 
Clarence.  "The  interest  of  an  uncle 
in  this  has  instigated  me  to  look 
into  it.  I  have  many  times  heard 
those  who  claim  to  be  inspirational 
speakers,  and  with  one  or  two  ex- 
ceptions, have  heard  so  many 
errors  in  their  talk  that  I  have  been 
disgusted. 

"  Fancy  Daniel  Webster  inciting 
an  address  of  faulty  diction  and  in- 
accurate construction,  or  Edwin 
Chapin  sending  out  the  silliest  trash 
concerning  the  other  life.  If  there  is 
anything  in  this,  it  should  teach  pro- 
gression. The  speakers  whom  I  have 
heard,  evince  such  evident  mentality, 
rarely  transcending  their  own  method 
of  expression,  that  it  would  be 
ludicrous  to  believe  that  they  were 
inspired  by  fluent,  brilliant  orators, 
for  the  entire  address  has  been 
generally  marked  by  a  conspic- 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          1 5 1 

uous  absence  of  what  would  be  the 
personality  of  those,  who,  they 
profess,  govern  them.  I  have  been 
interested  in  a  work  called  '  Dreams 
of  the  Dead'  which  might  readily 
be  considered  inspirational.  There 
is  such  an  overwhelming  quantity 
of  bombast  thrown  on  the  market, 
that  a  man  is  filled  with  disgust 
when  reading  the  average  book  on 
spiritualism.  Now,  you,  Mrs.  Litch- 
field,  have  given  me  something  to 
stimulate  investigation." 

"  I  certainly  knew  nothing  of 
you,"  replied  the  lady,  bowing  to 
the  group,  ' '  so  what  I  have  given 
could  not  possibly  spring  from 
any  interior  action  on  my  part. 
The  human  soul  is  a  living,  en- 
during intelligence,  and  should 
consistently  be  endowed  with  the 
faculty  to  become  en  rapport  with 
the  minds  of  those  still  living  within 
the  confines  of  earthly  limitations, 
through  intermediaries,  who  may  be 
used  as  agents,  and  through  them, 
awaken  from  the  treasure-house  of 
memory,  long-forgotten  events,  or 
have  the  power  to  warn  of  impend- 
ing trouble,  through  a  flashlight 
mental  process,  as  evidence  of  the 
agency  of  spirit  power." 

Clarence  was  in  deep  thought. 
The  silence  was  broken  finally  by 


152  DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

his  reference  to  Boehme,  that 
greatest  of  mystics,  and  he  quoted  : 

"The  soul  is  an  evolving  matter, 
and  may  have  had  an  eternal  past, 
quite  as  conceivable  as  the  life  it 
shall  continue  in,  after  its  earthly 
period." 

"I  partly  agree  with  him,  for 
everywhere,  underlying  all  matter, 
of  which  physical  sense  is  con- 
scious, is  a  world  where  the  mind 
is  baffled,  and  scientists  are  foiled, 
and  I  certainly  believe  that  there 
exists  an  invisible  world,  which  no 
visual  or  telescopic  search  can 
reach,  surrounding  our  physical 
atmosphere,  and  which  permeates  it 
everywhere. " 

"Good  !  "  exclaimed  Helen.  "  I 
had  no  idea,  Clarence,  that  you 
were  such  a  worthy  disciple  of  Dr. 
John  Sawyer." 

"Well,  Helen,  I  have  not  arrived 
at  the  point  of  satisfaction  that  he 
has,  and  I  am  glad  to  have  been  a 
witness  to  the  intelligent  tests  given 
this  evening.  What  we  have  heard 
is  enough  to  convince  me  that  there 
must  be  more  to  follow,  and  I  shall 
look  for  truth  on  any  line  which 
promises  to  be  an  honest  exponent 
of  it  ;  for  a  man  who  does  not  for- 
swear intelligence,  is  open  to  con- 
viction. " 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


'53 


Another  meeting  was  arranged 
for  the  ensuing  week,  and  Doctor 
Clarence  took  leave  at  the  same 
time  with  Mrs.  Litchfield,  to  accom- 
pany her  to  the  cars  passing  her 
own  door. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MRS.  VARNEY  re- 
mained with  her  relatives 
until  the  spring  weather  was  settled 
in  the  country,  when  she  returned 
to  Harrow  with  little  Stewart  in 
her  care. 

' '  Tell  dear  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates, " 
Helen  said,  when  she  parted  with 
her  aunt  at  the  Grand  Central  Sta- 
tion, "  that  mother  and  I  will  be  with 
them  the  latter  part  of  June.  I  shall 
certainly  suggest  to  them  that  they 
call  their  home  '  The  Refuge ' 
henceforth. "  And  from  that  day  the 
hospitable  farmhouse  in  Harrow 
was  called  by  that  name,  by  those 
who  found  it  such. 

An  exceptionally  warm  evening, 
soon  after  the  middle  of  May, 
tempted  the  inmates  of  the  "Ref- 
uge," to  open  the  windows.  Master 
Stewart,  in  a  rebellious  mood,  had 
been  taken  off  to  bed,  and  Mrs.  Bates 
'54 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          155 

had  repaired  to  the  kitchen  to  set  the 
sponge  for  baking-  the  next  morning, 
a  custom  she  had  religiously  retained 
for  her  share  of  the  family-cooking 
in  spite  of  constant  remonstrance 
from  Huldah,  who  "  couldn't  see  no 
sort  of  use  in  Miss  Bates  doing  that, 
while  she  set  around  doin'  nothin'. " 

Mr.  Bates  had  been  reading  his 
weekly  newspaper,  which  served 
from  the  time  of  one  issue  until  the 
next  for  his  evening  reading.  He 
had  followed  the  customary  habit 
of  shutting  his  eyes  for  the  "forty 
winks,"  indulged  in  between  the 
paragraphs,  and  his  gold-bowed 
spectacles,  a  Christmas  present  from 
Helen  Lindsey,  were  slipping  slowly 
down  his  long  nose,  while  the  news- 
paper had  taken  a  sideward  slide 
from  the  relaxing  hand  and  sprawled 
upon  the  floor.  His  head,  drooping 
forward,  caused  long  struggling 
gasps  for  breath  which  ended  in  a 
snore  and  bore  evidence  of  more 
than  the  "forty  winks.'' 

Flora  put  down  the  needle-work 
on  which  she  had  been  engaged  and 
sought  the  piano,  playing  too  softly 
to  disturb  Mrs.  Varney,  who  sat  at 
a  table  reading  a  late  magazine. 

"  Something  in  the  air,  summer's  breath  or 

spring, 
Touched  the  electric  cord  wherewith   we  are 

darkly  bound." 


156          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

The  old-time  airs  fitted  into  the 
girl's  mood,  and  she  was  humming 
the  words  of  an  old  song,  which 
proved  a  safety-valve  for  awakened 
memories,  unheeded  by  Mrs.  Var- 
ney,  who  was  so  absorbed  in  reading 
that  she  was  unconscious  of  her  sur- 
roundings ;  when  suddenly,  with  a 
shiver  of  terror,  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  the  window  opposite,  to  encounter 
the  glaring  eyes  of  Asa  Green.  She 
uttered  an  involuntary  cry  and 
raised  her  arm,  dodging  her  head 
the  instant  that  a  flash  and  pistol- 
shot  followed  simultaneously,  and 
her  upturned  arm  received  the  ball 
intended  for  her  head.  She  sank  for- 
ward in  a  swoon.  Mr.  Bates,  in- 
stantly awake  and  alive  to  the 
situation,  rushed  through  the  kitchen 
calling  upon  Hiram,  his  man,  to  fol- 
low him. 

The  faint  light  from  the  stars  gave 
but  little  help  in  the  pursuit,  and 
when  they  reached  the  road,  no  sign 
of  the  man  could  be  found.  A 
hoarse  cry  for  "  help  "  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  a  large  wood-pile  back 
of  the  house  v.-os  heard,  further  de- 
fined by  the  fierce  growl  of  old  Hec- 
tor who  had  joined  in  the  search. 
The  unerring  instinct  of  the  brute 
took  him  to  the  place  where  Green 
had  counted  on  crawling  in,  until 
the  search  near  the  house  had  ended 


DA'.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  1 5  7 

"Take  him  off!"  he  shrieked, 
with  an  inborn  fear  of  the  coward 
for  the  bull-dog. 

"Give  me  that  pistol  first,  you 
devilish  brute,"  shouted  Mr.  Bates. 

"I  dropped  it  there,"  the  man 
pointed  a  few  rods  off,  where  lay  the 
murderous  weapon  shining  in  the 
dim  light. 

By  this  time  Huldah  and  Ann  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene,  the  former 
armed  with  a  huge  pair  of  tongs, 
caught  up  in  a  certainty  that  she 
would  need  to  defend  herself. 

The  farmer  collared  Green,  and  or- 
dered Hector  off  who  stood  trem- 
bling with  excitement  ready  to 
spring  again  at  any  untoward  action 
of  the  man  he  had  secured. 

Hiram  was  despatched  for  the 
Doctor  and  constable.  Green  was 
limp  from  fear  and  pain.  In  attempt- 
ing to  beat  the  dog  off,  his  hand 
had  been  seized  and  frightfully 
lacerated.  Hector  let  go  only  to 
fasten  his  fangs  in  the  man's  leg. 

Doctor  Sawyer  found  Mrs. 
Varney's  wound  not  serious  ;  the 
ball  had  gone  through  her  arm  and 
lodged  in  the  casement  behind  her. 

"Bad  as  it  is,  the  result  should 
compensate  you,"  the  Doctor  said 
one  day,  "  for  this  attack  will  settle 
that  worthless  scoundrel  for  the  rest 
of  his  days." 


158          DR.  JOHN  SAWYER. 

Upon  his  release  from  jail,  when 
Asa  Green  had  found  his  wife  gone, 
upon  whom  he  was  raging  to  vent 
his  fury  for  the  punishment  he  had 
undergone,  he  turned  the  same  ha- 
tred to  those  who  had  befriended  her 
during  his  incarceration.  When  he 
found  that  Mrs.  Varney  had  been 
instrumental  in  aiding  the  poor 
woman  to  escape  from  his  abuse, 
he  attempted  to  murder  her. 

In  the  grateful  prayers  offered  by 
Mrs.  Varney  for  her  escape  from 
sudden  death,  there  was  mingled  a 
consciousness  that  she  had  seen  a 
perfect  vision  of  Allan  standing  be- 
fore her  the  evening  of  the  shooting, 
which  caused  her  to  raise  her  eyes 
in  time  to  save  her  life  by  the  move- 
ment she  was  impelled  to  make. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  remainder  of  the 
summer  passed  without 
any  further  startling-  event 
for  our  friends  at  Harrow, 
except  an  occasional  escapade  of 
Stewart  Lindsey,  which  culminating 
one  day  in  a  daring  act  of  diso- 
bedience, resulted  in  Helen's  gaining 
her  mother's  consent  to  place  the 
boy  in  a  strict  military  academy. 

Clarence  Sawyer  visited  his  home 
twice  during  Helen's  stay  in  Harrow, 
and  to  her  life  wore  the  brightest 
outlook. 

"All  the  world  loves  a  lover," 
and  the  intensity  of  the  love  which 
crowned  her  life  would  grow,  and 
inspire  growth  through  its  own  ca- 


160         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

pacity  for  giving,  and  new  heights 
would  be  reached,  for  the  future 
would  never  borrow  from  the  past. 
His  uncle's  approaching  marriage 
gave  sincere  satisfaction  to  Clar- 
ence ;  he  told  Mrs.  Varney  that  she 
had  made  him  at  rest  with  his  con- 
science, while  his  own  life  would 
be  the  richer  for  her  presence  in  his 
home. 

Helen    obtained  a  promise  from 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates  that  their  daugh-  » 
ter  should  pass  a  portion  of  the  next  { 
winter  with  her  in  New  York,  and 
in  the  intervening  time  Flora  so  far 
conquered  the   unhappiness   of  the  * 
year  previous,  that  she  could  enter  »J 
into    all    of   Helen's   plans    with   a  * 
genuine  interest.     What  a  year  before 
was  acute   pain,   had   been    slowly 
obliterated  by  the  soothing  hand  of 
time.     Thus  easily  will  a  mind  free 
from  morbid  tendencies  adapt  itself 
to  the  inevitable. 

With  a  larger  experience,  Flora 
discovered  that  the  affection  for  her 
early  playmate  and  friend,  had 
grown  into  emotional  action  through 
propinquity  and  congenial  taste, 
and  partly  from  the  "strong  neces- 
sity for  loving." 

Clarence  introduced  Doctor  Pal- 
mer's young  cousin  Bernard  Hulse, 
to  his  financee,  and  a  case  of  "love 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 


l6r 


at  first  sight,"  followed  the  civil 
engineer's  meeting  with  Flora  Bates, 
We  will  not  predict.  However,  the 
girl  found  the  world  of  art  and  music 
more  delightful  for  the  presence 
of  her  enthusiastic  escort,  and  the 
proverbial  straws  foretell  the  way 
it  will  terminate. 

Helen  and  Clarence  were  married 
the  following  spring. 

It  would  seem  that  their  lives 
must  run  in  grooves  of  perfect  hap- 
piness ;  but  alas,  the  inevitable 
crosses  will  meet  them  in  unex- 
pected places,  and  through  their 
endeavors  to  meet  them  bravely, 
heir  day  and  generation  will  be  the 
oetter  for  the  part  they  hold  in  it 


EPILOGUE. 

LET  us  take  advan- 
tage of  our  so-called 
astral  bodies,  and  pro- 
ject them  to  a  home  in  Harrow,  new 
to  us,  a  home  which  bears  the  im- 
press of  refinement  and  a  happy 
personality  in  its  every-day  look. 

All  nature  has  quivered  with  joy 
for  the  promise  of  a  new  bounteous 
summer  during  the  lovely  June  day 
now  drawing  to  a  close.  The  last 
echo  from  bird  and  insect  declared 
a  participation  in  such  perfection. 

Misery  and  suffering  would  jar 
upon  one,  as  an  inharmonious  ele- 
ment, yet  the  woman  who  sat  alone 
on  the  veranda  of  the  house  we  are 
viewing,  waiting,  where  she  was 
almost  hidden  from  sight  by  a  climb- 
162 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.          163 

ing  rose-bush  bursting  into  luxurious 
bloom,  knew  that  a  scene  of  hideous 
suffering  existed  not  far  away. 

Dr.  Sawyer  had  been  summoned 
hours  before,  to  the  factory  at  Black- 
more,  where  had  occurred  one  of 
the  accidents  incidental  to  machin- 
ery, and  the  man  whose  eyes  had 
witnessed  all  its  ghastliness,  vividly 
different  from  the  scene  before  us, 
was  late  in  coming  to  his  home. 

Mrs.  Sawyer  had  watched  the 
sun  decline  in  a  haze  of  gorgeous 
tints,  blending  with  the  clear  azure 
sky.  The  long  twilight  deepened, 
and  the  gently-falling  dew  accentu- 
ated the  sweet  fragrance  of  bloom- 
ing plant  and  shrub. 

Memory  was  active  in  the  mind 
of  the  waiting  wife.  Thought  of 
Allan  was  never  quite  absent  from 
his  mother,  and  this  night  it  ap- 
peared a  living,  actual  presence. 
His  utter  helplessness  had  drawn 
upon  a  deeper  fund  of  the  inexhaust- 
ible love  of  a  mother's  heart  than 
health  and  strength  could  have 
aroused,  and  the  chain  of  events 
connected  with  his  last  days  re- 
called reminiscences  of  the  sweetest 
nature. 

The  sound  of  a  weary  step  com- 
ing from  the  direction  of  the  stable 
recalled  Mrs.  Sawyer,  and  she  went 


1 64          DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER. 

forward  to  greet  her  husband,  whose 
face  with  its  tense  lines,  too  plainly 
showed  her  the  sympathy  he  had 
given  in  his  afternoon's  sad  work  ; 
but  no  questions  were  asked,  and  he 
retained  her  hand  until  they  crossed 
the  threshold,  where  every  thing  bore 
evidence  of  the  loving,  thoughtful 
care  which  brightened  his  life, 
when  the  strong  lines  faded  from 
his  face  into  a  look  of  restfulness 
and  grateful  affection. 

During  supper  his  wife  exerted 
herself  to  divert  his  absent  mind. 
A  morning  visit  from  his  still  great- 
est favorite,  Flora,  who  was  bristling 
all  over  with  recent  happy  plans, 
failed  to  interest  or  divert  him.  He 
made  but  a  pretense  of  eating,  and 
sipped  his  coffee  with  a  preoccupied 
air.  Ann  solicitously  passed  one 
tempting  dish  after  the  other  with 
the  same  result,  and  Mrs.  Sawyer 
finally  shook  her  head  to  the  faith- 
ful servant,  who  departed  to  vent 
her  anxiety  to  the  kitchen  walls. 

When  supper  had  ended,  the  Doc- 
tor followed  his  wife  to  the  cosy 
library  where  a  rest-inviting  couch 
soon  received  the  weary  man.  He 
was  not  often  disposed  to  talk  over 
the  sad  aspects  of  professional  ex- 
perience, but  Mrs.  Sawyer,  with 
fine  perception,  felt  that  he  desired 


DR.  JOHN  SA  WYER.  165 

to  speak  of  this  late  one,  for  she  as- 
sociated his  preoccupied  air  with  it, 
Drawing  a  low  chair  to  his  side  she 
said,  cheerfully, 

"Tell  me  about  it,  dear.  You 
may  be  able  to  banish  it  afterward." 

The  Doctor  waited  a  moment  and 
pressed  his  hand  over  his  brow  as  if 
collecting  wandering  thoughts. 

"One  man  died  under  examina- 
tion, leaving  a  family.  I  sent  for 
Emerson  to  pray  with  his  heart- 
broken wife — another  claim  upon 
your  'Aid  Society/  Lucy.  The 
other  has  lost  his  good  right  arm, 
amputation  was  necessary.  For 
him  I  feel  very  deeply.  The  man 
is  above  his  position  and  seems  to 
have  been  a  foot-ball  of  Fate.  An 
invalid  mother  beside  his  own  fam- 
ily, is  dependent  upon  him  !  Can 
you  imagine,  Lucy,  a  sadder  outlook 
than  that  poor  man  must  face 
to-night  ?  I  have  been  thinking  over 
a  way  whereby  we  can  provide  for 
the  wants  of  the  discouraged  family, 
while  the  bread-winner  is  helpless, 
and  when  he  gets  upon  his  feet,  put 
him — crippled  though  he  will  be — 
in  a  way  to  take  care  of  his  own  : 
but  first,  my  dear  wife,  tell  me,  are 
you  willing  to  forego  our  proposed 
trip  which  for  months  you  have 
anticipated  so  fondly  ?  The  dream 


1 66         DR.  JOHN  SA  WYE  JR. 

of  my  whole  life  seemed  about  to  be 
realized,  and  its  happiest  days  at 
hand — and  you  ?  " 

He  looked  intently  at  the  face 
reflecting  sympathy  and  soulful 
appreciation  back  at  him. 

•''Willingly,  dearest,  yes,  gladly, 
if  it  will  enable  you  to  do  what  you 
consider  your  highest  duty — help- 
ing a  fellow-man." 

Mrs.  Sawyer  left  her  seat  to  close 
a  window  through  which  the  cool 
night-wind  was  blowing  over  her 
husband.  Stooping,  she  gave  him 
the  caress  he  so  dearly  prized,  say- 
ing softly  to  herself — 

"  And  lo !     Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the 
rest." 


